"Baaaaaawwwwk!"
Margaret's eyes flew open at the raucous cry shattering the pre-dawn stillness. Her body tensed, instantly on alert as she snatched up the nearest object - an aged wooden chair - and clutched it defensively.
Her wide eyes raked the dimly lit room, searching for any signs of danger or threat as her heart pounded in her ears. So many nights spent camping in the wilderness had instilled an ingrained hyper-vigilance at even the slightest disturbance.
When no immediate peril revealed itself, Margaret let out a shaky breath and moved to the shuttered window. Pushing one side open, she peered out to find the source of the commotion.
A quintet of scrawny chickens pecked idly in the inn's rear yard, their beady eyes glinting in the soft morning light as one let loose another raucous "baaaaaawwwk!" to greet the rising sun.
Margaret couldn't stop the slightly hysterical chuckle that bubbled up as the tension drained from her body. Rubbing at her throbbing temples, she turned back to the rumpled bed where Asha was just beginning to stir amid a tangle of blankets.
"Ugh, what was that noise?" the little girl mumbled groggily, squinting against the pale rays filtering through the window.
"Nothing but the local rooster doing his job," Margaret replied with a rueful smile, ruffling Asha's tousled curls. "Though I haven't heard that particular wake-up call in quite a while, not since we lived on the farm with grandma and grandpa."
Asha blinked slowly as the lingering vestiges of sleep cleared from her eyes. A bright grin bloomed across her face, more vibrant than Margaret could recall seeing in...well, far too long.
"I feel lots better, mama! The nasty cold is finally going away."
As if to prove her point, the little girl sprang up and bounced on the bed with a bubbly laugh, rosy-cheeked and full of renewed energy. Margaret looked on in relieved amazement, offering up a silent prayer of gratitude to the village's mysteriously skilled healer.
"Easy now, don't get too carried away," she cautioned with a chuckle, drawing Asha into a tight hug. "Doctor Tory said you should still take it easy while you recover fully. How about we get you that tonic of hers after breakfast?"
At the mention of food Asha's stomach gave a noisy rumble, drawing peals of giggles. Nodding vigorously, she made a show of sniffing the air like a hunting hound. "I can smell it already! Bacon and eggs...do you think they'll have pancakes?"
"One way to find out." Margaret stood, stretching languidly before running fingers through her disheveled hair in an attempt at smoothing the tangled locks. A hint of color tinged her cheeks as she thought of how she must look to the inn's other patrons.
Well, who was she trying to impress anymore? This world had already upended so many of her conventional assumptions about life.
With a harrumph of resolution, Margaret tugged open their room's door and ushered Asha out into the creaky hallway. "C'mon then, let's see what sort of grub they've got on offer. And I need you to remind me what remedies that good doctor wanted you taking..."
The common room downstairs was far more subdued in the early hours before most had crawled out of their bunks. Margaret and Asha found a relatively secluded table tucked into an alcove, allowing Margaret to dig through her satchel undisturbed.
Extracting the bundle of herbs, tinctures and powders gifted by Doctor Tory's skeptical acceptance of the strange artifacts, Margaret frowned in puzzlement at the myriad jars. Their faded, hand-lettered labels offered no clarity, marked only by spidery Elvish runes and symbols she couldn't hope to decipher.
A polite cough nearby drew her gaze up to find a rosy-cheeked dwarven barmaid regarding them with a raised eyebrow and terra cotta mug of steaming hot liquid in each hand.
"Mornin' to ye, guests," she greeted gruffly, sizing them up with no shortage of open curiosity. "We got a fresh pot o' black tea if'n ye fancy a cuppa 'fore our cook starts bangin' out the day's vittles?"
Margaret blinked, shaking off her distraction before plastering on a welcoming smile. "Tea would be lovely, thank you."
As the stout dwarven lass plunked the mugs down on the scrubbed tabletop, a timely clatter and aroma of sizzling meats wafted from the back kitchen. The mouthwatering scent was shortly joined by yeasty, sweet fragrances that set Asha's eyes sparkling in delight.
"Pancakes!" Asha cheered, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Margaret's smile turned wry, even as her stomach gave a sympathetic rumble. Perhaps a hearty breakfast and dose of the healer's brews would make confronting this bizarre new world just a tad easier to stomach.
While Asha dug into her stack of fluffy pancakes with unrestrained gusto, Margaret took the chance to scan their surroundings. Several of the inn's other early risers nursed mugs of steaming tea or ale, hunched at the battered tables scattered around the taproom.
Most seemed disinclined to pay the new arrivals any mind, conversing in low murmurs or picking at bowls of gruel with the hollow-eyed weariness of those who'd endured too many hard journeys. Until Margaret inadvertently made eye contact with a grizzled human mercenary tucked away in one dingy corner.
The man's rheumy gaze raked over her in an appraising once-over that made Margaret's skin prickle with discomfort. When she ventured a polite smile and inclination of her head, he sneered back in open disdain. One gnarled hand strayed ostentatiously to the hilt of his sheathed blade as if issuing an unspoken warning for her to mind her own business.
Flushing hotly, Margaret averted her gaze and shrank back against her seat, stomach curdling unpleasantly. She suddenly felt incredibly small and insignificant under the mercenary's contemptuous glower. An outsider just by the simple virtue of being human in this strange new world.
If there were others of her kind living here as Aaron claimed, what gave this man the right to judge and look down on her? A pang of homesickness lanced Margaret's heart as her gaze found Asha obliviously enjoying her breakfast.
This new reality they had been thrust into seemed more daunting and alienating by the moment. She couldn't begin to fathom the undercurrents and tensions simmering beneath Greencrest's quaint exterior. What sorts of prejudices and societal divides might they be blundering into, totally unaware?
A bout of self-consciousness washed over Margaret as she wondered what stains or dishevelment from the road still clung to her appearance. She attempted to smooth her rumpled clothes and tuck back some fraying strands of hair, feeling utterly foolish. Who was she trying to look presentable for?
The hollow echo of that old, nagging inner voice only made her feel more despondently adrift until a warm, familiar presence settled on the bench opposite. Margaret startled, looking up to find Aaron regarding her with evident concern.
"You seem...unsettled this morning, my lady. Is everything alright?" His tone was gentle but utterly devoid of judgement.
Drawing a steadying breath, Margaret managed a tight smile and nod. "Nothing to worry about...just feeling a bit out of place is all."
Rather than press her on the half-truth, Aaron simply returned her smile with a solemn inclination of his head. "I promise this peculiar sense of displacement will pass in time. Greencrest may seem forbidding at first glance, but its people have stout enough hearts to accept outsiders in due course."
His reassuring words—as well as the plate of eggs, ham and potatoes the dwarven barmaid deposited before her with a grunt—helped bolster Margaret's flagging spirit somewhat. As she dug into the hearty fayre, she told herself that Aaron had to be right.
"I thought perhaps a tour of Greencrest might be in order after your meal," he began carefully.
"Give you both a chance to get better acquainted with the lay of the land, as it were."
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Margaret paused mid-bite, a crease furrowing her brow as she regarded the elven paladin curiously. "A tour would be wonderful, thank you. Though I can't help but feel there's...another reason you're suggesting it?"
A wry smile played across Aaron's full lips. "You are perceptive, my lady. The truth is, it may behoove us to procure some new attire for you both before venturing too far afield."
He gave a meaningful glance at their travel-stained garments - Margaret's homespun dress was rent in several places, while Asha's tunic and breeches were more patch than original fabric at this point. To their accustomed eyes, the rugged clothing was simply well-worn from life on the road. But Aaron's next words hinted at a deeper significance.
"Unfortunately some may view your current...rustic apparel as too evocative of the Corelsk outriders. The nomadic barbarians have had...let us say, a contentious relationship with Greencrest's residents of late."
His tone remained delicately neutral, giving no outward censure, but the implication was clear enough that Margaret felt her cheeks flush hotly. She didn't have to look far to recall the mercenary's sneering disdain from earlier.
Apparently their outsider status went deeper than simple unfamiliarity. Strangers traveling under suspect circumstances, dressed in a manner that perhaps reminded these folk too keenly of their mistrusted neighbors out on the arid steppes.
As if sensing her renewed discomfort, Aaron laid a reassuring hand atop Margaret's where it rested on the table's battered surface.
"I don't make this suggestion lightly, I assure you. But a few minor adjustments may grant you both a...warmer reception while we determine how best to get you reestablished here."
Margaret couldn't find it in herself to argue or take offense at his pragmatic logic. With a resigned nod, she acquiesced to his advice.
They passed the remainder of the morning meal in contemplative silence, with Aaron only rousing them once Asha had dutifully drained the final drops of foul-tasting medicinal tonic - an herbal concoction he promised would help fully restore her vigor.
Leaving the rowdy taproom behind, he ushered them out into the sun-drenched village square and began their tour in earnest. Greencrest truly was an eccentric patchwork of ramshackle architecture and folk of every persuasion, from humble thatched crofts to stout stone hovels housing squat, powerfully-built dwarves.
Gnomish tinkerers hawked strange gadgets and curios from colorful stalls, while liveried human mercenaries bearing the crest of a soaring eagle made regular patrols around the outer palisades. More than once Margaret caught sight of wolf-kin or furry-faced gnolls lurking in shadowed alcoves, ducking out of sight whenever she met their feral glares.
The deeper into the village they wandered, the more Margaret's initial sense of whimsical delight gave way to a gnawing unease. These people's open distrust bordering on outright hostility towards outsiders was palpable in every sidelong glance and muttered aside as she passed.
Only the steadying presence of Aaron and the occasionally wide-eyed wonder on Asha's face kept the rising anxiety at bay. Margaret found herself hoping the paladin's promised solution would make even the slightest difference in how these strange folk perceived her and Asha.
If not...she shuddered to consider what awaited them should they remain perpetual outcasts in this magical new world they'd only just begun to fathom.
"One of Greencrest's finer outfitters, if I'm not mistaken," Aaron said by way of preamble, gesturing for Margaret and Asha to precede him inside.
No sooner had they crossed the threshold than a distinctly equine voice rang out in greeting.
"Well met, travelers! What treas—"
The words trailed off in an audible gasp as the centaur shopkeeper laid eyes on their rugged figures. He was a broad-chested stallion from the waist down, his powerful hindquarters blending seamlessly into the bronzed skin of a well-muscled human torso peaking out from a dark blue tunic. Welcomed black hair framed eyes that narrowed with unveiled suspicion.
Margaret instinctively pulled Asha closer, bracing herself for yet another round of thinly veiled hostility.
Right back at you bucko! You-
Margaret’s eyes trailed down to his…. More horse like half and she couldn’t help but think it was too realistic, likely because it was real and this was a really half man half horse standing right in front of her. That didn’t make it any less stranger for her but Asha seemed excited to meet such a magical looking person. Even though he looked less than happy to see them.
But before the centaur could react further, a second figure emerged from the back room. This one was sleeker, slender - a raven-maned mare's body flowing gracefully into the curves of a young woman. She wore a simple linen tunic emblazoned with the unicorn crest, floral garlands woven through her dusky tresses and warm brown eyes widening at the sight of them.
"Caelin, don't be rude! The paladin is with them," she chided her brother in a melodious voice. Even so, she too faltered upon seeing their unlikely companions more clearly, shrinking back a step.
"I fear our confrontations with their outriders have bred...unreasoning suspicion towards any perceived outsiders. You must forgive us." Thera said with an empathetic look.
An awkward silence stretched until Caelin shuffled a hoof, drawing their attention.
"Well?" he rumbled, mustang tail flicking irritably. "You've come to browse our wares, have you not?"
A brief flash of sibling recrimination passed between the centaurs before Thera smoothed her features into a welcoming smile once more.
"Do come in and take a look around! We've garments crafted to outfit folk of any size, stature, or...proportion to fit your needs."
She made a sweeping gesture with one arm to encompass the bolts of cloth lining the walls and myriad woven garments on display. Shaking off her misgivings with an internal chuckle, Margaret obliged by moving further inside and allowing Asha to gape around in open wonderment.
Watching the little girl's delight as she darted between racks and displays, trailing rainbow ribbons of fabric, Margaret couldn't help the warm sense of determination blooming in her chest.
"Thank you, Miss Thera," she said sincerely, offering Aaron a grateful nod before turning to the wares with fresh eyes.
After spending the better part of an hour being deftly outfitted by the centaur siblings, Margaret and Asha emerged from the Bounding Bolt feeling utterly transformed.
Gone were the ragged, travel-stained garments that had drawn so many suspicious glares. Instead, mother and daughter now wore simple yet sturdy tunics and breeches in shades of forest green and russet brown - hues that somehow made them appear more at home amidst Greencrest's eccentric scenery.
Even Asha's typical childish exuberance seemed tempered somewhat by her new garb, her infectious grin taking on an impish quality as she twirled and tugged at the fresh fabric with evident delight.
"Look at me! I’m an adventurer now!" she exclaimed, striking an exaggerated pose that set the short cape Thera had included billowing dramatically.
Margaret couldn't stifle her own chuckle of amusement, reaching out to tousle Asha's rambunctious curls with a maternal wink. "That you do, my sweet explorer. Though we'll need to find you a tiny sword and shield to complete the look."
Asha's eyes grew wide at the prospect of looking so brave, but their playful back-and-forth was interrupted by Aaron's arrival. The elven paladin's expression was inscrutable, but his blue eyes shone with approval as he raked them over in their new outfits.
"A marked improvement, if I may say so," he remarked with a courteous nod to the shopkeepers. "You've both embraced the frontier spirit admirably."
Thera and Caelin shared a look, the latter's features softening somewhat as he regarded their guests with the barest hint of a smile.
"We aim to outfit folk for the journey ahead, no matter how winding the road," the female centaur said warmly. "Safe travels to you both. And may the spirits find favor with your...unique circumstances."
Those final, enigmatic words hung in the air as they took their leave, Aaron ushering them deeper into the village's winding streets and bustling marketplace. Stalls hawked exotic curios and delicacies of every description - gnarled roots that squirmed unnervingly, racks of Unknown meats and cheeses whose aromas defied description, even Mundane fineries like jewelry and finely woven rugs.
As Margaret made a cursory loop to acquire trail rations and other modest necessities, she was struck by how...normal and accepting the shopkeepers' demeanors had become. No more guarded looks or muttered asides, no blatantly turning their backs or shooing them away like pariahs.
Perhaps Thera had been correct - it truly was their ill-fitting garments and dishevelment that painted them as unseemly outsiders to these folk. A few minor adjustments, and suddenly they no longer seemed to register as dire threats upon first glance.
The realization buoyed Margaret's spirits considerably as she accepted a heavy pack of hard tack and jerky from a aged gnome woman, trading over a couple of battered coppers from Aaron's purse. Maybe they could find their foothold here after all under the paladin's experienced guidance. Build a new life for Asha in this extraordinary realm of fantasy and peril made manifest.
As if reading her thoughts, Aaron appeared at her elbow, newly acquired satchel of supplies over one shoulder and Asha riding piggyback with impish delight. His expression was neutral but resolute as he nodded towards the village's heart where the lofty spires of a soaring cathedral rose against the sky.
"Our final stop for the day." he said, tone leaving little room for argument. "There is someone I believe crucial for you both to meet, if we are to explore the depths of your...unique circumstances to their fullest."
Margaret felt her pulse quicken, but nodded slowly in acceptance of the elf's veiled meaning. For all the strides they'd taken in assimilating today, it seemed her lingering air of mystery would need to be cast aside before Greencrest would fully accept them into its bosom.
With a steadying exhalation, she fell into step beside Aaron, allowing Asha to serve as her grounding tether of strength and joy amid the unknowns stretching before them. They ascended a winding path up a gentle rise towards the cathedral, its intricately carved outer walls and buttresses growing ever more towering and magnificent with each step.
At last, they halted before an edifice of staggering proportions, with heavy oak-and-iron doors reinforced portals that looked built to withstand a siege. Margaret could only gape wordlessly at the cathedral's grandeur, as awe-struck as the first time she'd beheld Greencrest from the hilltop overlook.
Shooting her a sidelong look, Aaron gripped the ring-pull set into one of the doors and heaved. The mighty doors slowly began to creak open with a ponderous groan, unveiling a shadowed vestibule beyond where the air hung thick with the musty scents of incense, old stone, and hushed refrains of faith.