Fantasy All's Fair

[Aerynth]

Of course they couldn't make those decisions; that would make things too simple, and they just never were. Although... this actually was pretty simple, wasn't it? She hadn't gotten the best of deals, but it was still something. Still a chance to save those children, and the fae as well. (They, too, were the victims in this situation. People or fae, they both had their families torn apart, and not acknowledging that would have been disingenuous. Cruel, even.) "... I'll do it," Cyreia promised quietly. Perhaps she really was too naive, but there was no reason for their ruler to deny her that wish, was there? Not if they got their own children back. And even if they did end up acting unreasonable-- well, kidnapping the fae was still bad, as bad as kidnapping the children, and if nothing else, she'd get to right that wrong at least. Surely even a small act of kindness counted in the grand scheme of things. It just had to, otherwise everything would be meaningless. "Just tell me everything you know of those poachers. Any detail might help. And what do you mean by saying that no other children will be taken?" Cyreia raised her eyebrow. "You are still being hunted, after all. Why the change of heart?"

"Why would a dragon need to be taught how to be a dragon?" Ylan chuckled. "She was born as one! Nobody needs to teach me how to be human, either." Still, despite the occasional remark, he hung on Remin's every word; dragons did have a way of fascinating children, after all. Well, it was either that, or he was just thankful to be the centre of attention for once. Given that he had multiple siblings and both of his parents worked, that probably didn't happen too often. "I heard that dragons guard treasures!" the boy said. "And steal princesses. I wouldn't know why they need princesses out of all people, though. Do you think, Isara," he watched her with his large, serious eyes, "that princesses taste better than regular people? Could it be because of all the delicacies they get to eat?"

 

[Conifer]

"Only if you intend to fail your attempts to stop the poachers." They shrug, leaning against the tree that they used to pull themselves up off the ground, shoulder pressed heavily against the bark. "They stop taking, we stop taking. We aren't cruel, ghilas'sal, we don't take those who don't wish to come for just the sake of taking like those murderers are, no matter what stories you might have listened too much to." There's a moment of silence, where every instant of it it seems like that the fae before Cyeria might say something more, and then they don't - and then they do, finally, glancing longways into the forest before speaking quieter, more earnestly than they'd done this entire time. There's not an edge of fear to it, but there's an edge of...something akin to it. Guilt, perhaps, or disobedience? Or perhaps it was once again something lost in the translation between their cultures. It's there, either way, in the fae's voice. "The boy won't be taken yet. I'll grant you that, since you grant us this attempt. If you bring Hest back to us, then the boy will remain. It'll be even. They'll return ours, we'll return theirs. If you fail to bring her back to us, even stopping those humans from interfering further, then he's ours. Three days I can spare you, but that's all. And there's not much I can tell you about the humans that take us - they come with brightness that blinds us to their faces, their bodies, and they lay their traps and wield and wear iron enough that any attempts to stop them end with pain or death of us. We know nothing despite years of attempts. They've grown older, some have joined and some have left, but they always come and always take and always manage it."

Where the boy was glad for the attention, Remin was glad to give it. It seemed like the first conversation she'd had here where she hadn't had to be on guard. Careful, yes, absolutely; there was no denying that. So many things to be careful over. But she didn't have to sell herself with anything but a story about a dragon to gain the attention and like of the boy in front of her. Even without that, she'd have won him over, maybe. He was a nice kid, his father notwithstanding. (What had happened to Maric? Had he been at the festival when it had all happened? Or had he been tucked away in his lab as he was wont to do? Did his blood stain that sword, or did he still live? Did he continue to live now? Remin felt so suddenly sick. She didn't like the man, certainly, but...he wasn't against them. And there were so few of those sort of people left in the world that were she to see him again and fewer probably now that any of that dislike would vanish. She might cry to see him again. She might cry to see anyone from home safe, honestly. Had she failed them by fleeing? Should she have died in that hall with whoever else had, her blood mixing with theirs on the sword?) "...I wouldn't know." Isara says, Remin says, running her fingers through the boy's hair again. "I don't think they eat the princesses. I think they just...take them, in the stories, don't they? It'd be so much work to steal a princess to have a bite of food, I don't see why they'd do it. Not when there's flocks of sheep to eat in moments, or fish to swallow down, sea water and all. I really don't know what they'd do with the princesses if not eat them, I guess, but eating feels...silly."

 

[Aerynth]

Three days. Too little, probably, but still better than nothing; you could accomplish much in seventy two hours if you put your mind to it. Hell, Cyreia had seen the tides of many battles turn in a window of time that was much smaller. Still, the limit offered to her didn't exactly fill her with optimism. She had received something, yes, but that something was akin to a beggar getting scraps from the dinner when he had been hoping for a feast. A fitting analogy, too, because beggars couldn't be choosers. Even if Cyreia would have preferred more, the fae had made a compromise, hadn't they? And possibly gotten themselves in trouble in the process, too, if their earlier remarks about 'not being able to make such decisions' were true. "Very well," she said and rose from her little spot on the ground. "Thank you, my friend, for this chance. You won't regret this. See you in three days, then." As she spoke, thoughts were already swirling in her head; thoughts yet vague and directionless, but hopefully coherent enough to form a strategy later. 'Brightness that blinds them to their faces?' An interesting bit, though one that wasn't going to help. Most of the information the fae gave her wasn't going to help, actually, but there was one promising passage. 'They've grown older, some have joined and some have left.' That... almost made it look like family business? Or if not family, then some secret society that was almost certainly based in Eydar. Cyreia sincerely doubted, after all, that they'd travel to the town, every year for the past ten years, only to capture their one fae and then promptly disappear. No, such behavior would attract too much attention. And since the fae interacted enough with the locals to have children with them on the regular? They would have noticed that pattern very fast. Either way, Cyreia needed to discuss the whole mess with Remin. Her wife had promised to investigate, after all, and who knew what she had managed to discover? Her hometown was clearly shrouded in secrets; perhaps she had stumbled upon one of them.

"Hmm, I suppose that's true," Ylan said, apparently deep in thought. "But what do they do with them? I mean, I don't think princesses are particularly useful to dragons. Maybe-- maybe they consider them a type of treasure, though. Princesses are meant to inherit kingdoms, and kingdoms generally have piles of gold in their treasury, so perhaps they think that princesses are the key to that gold?" he suggested. For a while, he seemed to be proud of his theory, but then a thoughtful pucker appeared in the middle of his forehead; on a boy as young, it looked downright funny. "Doesn't explain why they don't take princes, though. Or kings or queens. I'll have to ask my dad once he returns! Dad knows everything, you see."

It was in that moment that Cyreia opened the door, alone. (The parents, as happy as they had been to help her, didn't seem all too convinced that their son wouldn't be taken, and insisted on her fulfilling her promise. Well, she supposed she couldn't blame them; not after what she had witnessed in the forest. The fae really had been kidnapping children, after all. The situation wasn't nearly as white and black as they imagined it to be, but the core of the rumors remained true.) "I'm back," she announced, rather uselessly, and kissed Remin on her cheek.

"Oh, hi!" Ylan waved at her. Somehow, he looked much happier than before; had that short time with Remin been enough to lift his spirits? That didn't exactly surprise her. Her wife always seemed to carry sunshine in her, no matter where she went. "Isara said you went to deal with the trap!"

"That I did," Cyreia ruffled his hair. "Nobody else will get hurt by it, that much I can promise." And if she managed to solve the mystery in time, Ylan wouldn't get hurt, either. Or, more precisely, separated from his parents. It was hard to guess what the fae might be doing with the children, but if she could trust her new acquaintance, then they at least didn't hurt them physically. Were they trying to raise them like fellow fae, maybe? She... had no idea what that would mean if they were to return to their old homes if that was the case. Would they even consider it their home anymore? God, some of them had been away for so long. What if they didn't even remember their parents' faces? "Isara," she turned to her wife, "we, um, should talk. About the errand you agreed to run for me." About her investigation, in other words, and ideally without Ylan present. "Do you have the time now?"

 

[Conifer]

A quick glance at the healer - who spared a slightly annoyed-looking glance at the thought of the two of them leaving him to tend to Ylan for even some scrap of time, but lightly waved Remin off with a soft nod - confirmed that yes, fine, she had the time now. She shot him a grateful glance and ruffled Ylan's hair one last time. "Rest for a bit, and we'll be back before you know it." Remin instructs as she pulls herself to her feet. That hand reaches easily for Cyeria, now, slotting their fingers together with an ease that she wasn't going to grow tired of them being able to have openly. Everything had a silver lining, she supposed. This one was thin, but it was there solid enough.

They walk aimlessly. Destination doesn't matter so much as privacy, and the world outside the healer's home is quiet; they have the privacy they need anywhere they might wander. And so Remin spoke softly, but freely, once they were far enough from the hut as to not let their voices drift back inside. "My errand went admittedly poorly." She says. "Alistair wasn't eager to talk about it. He was terrified. A sweet boy, but scared. Said something about an agreement, but he wouldn't have elaborated on it if I asked, I'd bet, and...honestly, he sold me far more food than I paid him for, I think, so I didn't really want to risk him changing his mind about that. We have pumpkin and potatoes enough for dinner for days, by the way, and Sayna offered to cook them for us." She squeezes Cyeria's hand lightly. "Ylan had some strange dreams, though, which...honestly, I'm willing to discount as a child's fright, but they still might be worth something. He saw the other children, and one of them said he'd be with her soon. And then he saw people wearing the heads of animals, which seems to be part of a local myth? That you'll transform into the animal, or something like that?" Perhaps it had been around when Cyeria had been a child, and she'd know more of the information or context there.

All in all, her own discoveries didn't seem the most helpful. If they were going off only what she knew, then they'd be searching for a while longer for anything useful or would be going in blind to a situation they had no idea how to handle - or even, really, where to handle it. "...How were the woods?" She asks, a little hesitantly. Surely Cyeria had learned something?

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia, too, leaned into Remin's touch, and for a while, she felt completely calm. As if she was truly home, irrespective of her physical location. (Perhaps that was what home was about, really. Not about the place where you had happened to be born, but about this feeling; about knowing that, regardless of how many things went to hell, you could turn to this one person and she would be there for you.) That peace, however, got shattered when her wife actually started speaking. "An agreement?" Cyreia repeated. That just sounded ominous, no matter how you looked at it. An agreement between what parties? The poachers and... other poachers, or the poachers and the townsfolk? Because that was a distinct possibility, too.

"I love pumpkins," she muttered absent-mindedly, even if that was probably the least important thing in the world right now. Focusing on trifles could be freeing at times, though, and the Eydar wouldn't collapse on itself if they also talked about something else than its secrets for about five seconds. "Mother used to bake them, and it was really good. I think I still remember the spices she used. I'll prepare it for you sometime, if you're willing to risk eating my meals. It's been a while since I cooked, but I promise I haven't killed anyone that way." When Remin mentioned Ylan's dreams, though, Cyreia frowned. Great, just great! More ominous things that, nevertheless, didn't help them in any tangible way. "I can't comment on the rest of it, but the animal heads thing-- as far as I know, it's supposed to be symbolic. If you disregard the rules and act like an animal, you may as well be one. That's what it means, at least as far as I can tell." And considering what Cyreia had learned in the forest, it may actually be significant. Because wasn't stealing children, even if they were fae, an act that robbed you of your humanity?

"As for me... Well. I have both good and bad news," Cyreia clutched her hand tightly. "The good news is, I suppose, that I did manage to find out what's going on. The bad news is that the locals were right. The fae really are stealing their children. I met one, you know." God, the whole thing sounded ridiculous even to her own ears, but-- well, this was Remin. She would believe her, mostly because they had lived through so many ridiculous events together that this was just a natural continuation of that pattern. "Apparently they are kidnapping them in retaliation, though, because the poachers started hunting their children first. It seemed fair to them to replace their lost kin. Anyway, I promised them I would stop the poachers and they said they'd return the children, maybe. Not the best deal, but considering they have hidden them somewhere in their world-- I didn't have much room to negotiate," Cyreia shrugged. "Oh, and they promised not to steal Ylan... for three days. If I don't find the fae the poachers kidnapped this year within that time limit, they'll take him."

 

[Conifer]

It was kind of silly how easy it was to drift between sentimental stories of Cyeria's childhood and the real and present threats weighing on the very community those stories had taken place in; there was present danger, and they were discussing baked pumpkin. "I'd rather be killed by your cooking than anything else that might like me dead." Remin teases softly, though it's hardly a joke. Dying at Cyeria's hand - at least there'd be a romance to that? Better than Loren or anyone under his employ; that'd just be giving them the satisfaction. "Next time we have a pumpkin and somewhere to bake it, I expect to be impressed." She presses a kiss to Cyeria's cheek just before they slip back into the more serious talk.

And as Cyeria expected, Remin did believe her. They'd met a god and they'd helped them win a war; Cyeria meeting fae wasn't something she could even consider to be strange anymore, especially when they'd all but confirmed that Cyeria herself was born of the fae. This could almost be named as expected. The rest of what she had to say perhaps not, but the meeting of the creature? Boring, even. Still, it was the rest of the information that actually mattered. The fact that they were taking children was both terrible and kind of a blessing; they at least knew where they children were, if what the fae had said was true and that they were able to return them. Getting them would be difficult, but that wasn't the worry for now. Ylan was, and the poachers were. "...three days isn't a lot." Remin says softly. "But it's something. We've done more pivotal things in less." More pivotal things in less, but with far more power than they had now. She frowns softly. "Do you think they'd be in town? If we can safely say that, it'd narrow it down a lot. We'll have to be careful about asking around, but someone has to be willing to say something. Not everyone involved can just be okay with this, can they?"

 

[Aerynth]

"It isn't," Cyreia agreed, mostly because it was true. Panicking would have been a more natural reaction than the calm they both wore, actually, but that just wasn't their style. When you escaped from death on a semi-regular basis, it cured you from such reactions rather reliably. "But yes, at least we can try. And if I fail-- well, that still doesn't mean I have to just walk away with my tail between my legs." Cyreia, after all, hadn't promised to the fae that she wouldn't attempt to save the children if their agreement fell through. No, she had merely agreed to help them, and that was all. Nothing about it negated her willingness to try and get the hostages back through force if such a need arose. She would prefer not go down such a path, but ultimately, her preferences played very little role in what she would actually end up doing. Suppressing her own desires was something the army had taught her quite well.

"I am fairly sure they live in the town. I mean, this has been happening for quite some time now, so I'm sure the fae would have noticed if a suspicious group of strangers appeared every year just to steal their children. No, the ones doing it are much more inconspicuous than that, which means they must be from around here." How to narrow it down, though? Even if Eydar wasn't large, there were still too many people for them to be able to deduce that sort of thing easily. The kidnappers, after all, didn't have their intentions written on their foreheads. "Are you sure that Alistair wouldn't talk? I mean, he mentioned an agreement, so it really feels like he knows something. Maybe he'd sing a different tune if we told him his sister might return." Was it callous of her that she still wanted to interrogate the boy, even if Remin had described him as frightened? Perhaps, but at this point, Alistair was the only clue they had. Unless... "I suppose I might also ask the blacksmith about the traps. They have to come from somewhere, and perhaps he knows something. Or do you have a different idea? Have you perhaps met someone you think might be of use?" Cyreia didn't really see other options here, but that didn't mean Remin couldn't provide a different perspective. That was the beauty of their partnership; the different angles from which they viewed the same things.

 

[Conifer]

"He certainly knows more." She sighs. "But pushing him to talk...I don't know. If we can avoid it, we likely should, but maybe you can do better than I did. I mentioned that we were trying to bring back the people who were lost, or- that it was a possibility, but...It only seemed to scare him more." Were this a different situation, if she had any amount of the power she usually did, then this might be one of the fair few times she might abuse it; pay off the family to encourage him to speak with her, or- offer anything, really, just to make the fright he was feeling nothing compared to what he might gain from telling them. But she had nothing to offer but promises that might go unfulfilled if they didn't manage to live through any of this. Should they really be risking themselves dealing with fae and poachers? Knowing her and Cyeria's luck, this had the potential to turn deadly. But what else were they to do? She'd chided the father for refusing to do anything - she couldn't stand here and do nothing herself. And it was kind of comforting to have something more immediate to focus on than the impending doom of Loran and Athea and everything involved there. So, if it were deadly, then it was deadly. They'd made it out of other situations they shouldn't have; what was one more in the scheme of things?

"How's this town run? Or at least - how was it ran, when you were young? Is there someone in charge? A mayor, or a lord, or-- anything?" Perhaps they might be to blame - and if they weren't to blame, then they might have their own suspicions about who might be willing to do such a thing, or at least be willing to help them to figure out who those poachers were. It was in the best interest if the town, after all; if they didn't want children to stop being kidnapped and weren't willing to do something about it, then they're as good as guilty. But any of that would only work if there was someone in charge. She hadn't seen anything obviously indicating a place of authority (though to be fair, she'd barely seen much of the town so far, regardless of its size,) so perhaps there just...wasn't. It was small enough that it might function on its own, without someone leading the charge.

 

[Aerynth]

"... maybe we should leave him alone, then. At least until we have other options." If Cyreia had to, she would talk to Alistair, but there was no way this conversation wouldn't go poorly. Even Remin with her silver tongue hadn't managed to get much out of him! How was she supposed to do it? With a sword, maybe, but the thought alone made her feel sick. The boy had been nothing but friendly to them; how low would she have to sink to threaten his well-being? No, there were limits Cyreia just wouldn't cross, and having them was tremendously important. Without those standards, she may as well have been Loran.

Remin's question, however, got her to think. "Technically, there is a lord, but he doesn't really oversee anything. He rules over the entire region and Eydar is just too small for anyone to care, really." Beyond the taxes its people paid, of course. When it came to taxes, everyone miraculously remembered even the existence of the smallest settlements. "If my memory serves correctly, there's a... council of sorts? Yes, a council. It's composed of people who have some sort of influence in the town. Mostly store owners and such, you know the type. Or old people who have a lot of experience with how things are supposed to be run." Cyreia didn't actually agree with the whole 'age equals wisdom' shtick, but what she thought about it changed very little; most folks just... naturally looked up to those who had lived longer than them. It was only natural, she supposed, but also limiting. "I doubt that the old council members are alive at this point, though." Most of them had been old even back then, and-- well. Cyreia had no idea how many people had even survived the tragedy. She couldn't have been the only one, right? It hadn't occurred to her to look for survivors back then, mostly because she had been so focused on getting away from the flames, but it was just... improbable, wasn't it? For her to be the only lucky one. The idea of meeting one of them-- she didn't know whether it pleased her or frightened her. Probably both, really. "I suppose we can ask Sayna," Cyreia suggested. "I mean, she owns the local inn. It's likely that she is a council member herself, and if not, then surely she knows them." They would also have to determine who was likely to support their cause, of course, but getting their names came first.

 

[Conifer]

Remin frowned softly at the prospect of bringing any of this up with Sayna. They were rather dependent on her at the moment, and if the conversation with Alistair was any indication, any talking they did about this with her wasn't going to go well. But- Remin had work now, and hopefully Ylan's parents would keep true to their word and pay her for her - apparently unnecessary for now - protection. But if they didn't figure this out, didn't find that fae, then Ylan was as good as gone and that money equally so. Well. Okay. Remin had work, at least, and it might not pay wonderfully, but it'd pay. They could figure it out. They could splurge on a blanket and camp out under a tree if it came to that; the weather seemed to be holding out pleasantly enough. As much as the thought of sleeping on the ground left her quickly-diminishing sensibilities on edge, it mattered far less than getting to the bottom of all of this. "...he warned against bringing it up with her," Remin sighs. "But I think we're running out of options. Or- running out of time to come up with more options, at least, if we hope to get this all sorted quickly. So it might be our best bet."

 

[Aerynth]

Wait. Alistair had warned them against Sayna? The same Sayna who had offered them a place to stay without expecting much in return, despite them being complete strangers with a questionable sob story? Nothing about her seemed dangerous to Cyreia. Then again, did her perception really mean anything? Experience had taught her, after all, that the most dangerous ones liked wearing the mask of harmlessness. Vestat came to mind, for example. Besides, surely Alistair must have mentioned her name for a reason. While Cyreia couldn't really imagine Sayna being one of those poachers, she may as well have been working with them. Perhaps-- perhals she hated the fae, or loved money enough to be able to overlook where exactly they had come from. (Sadly, that sort of blindness wasn't uncommon. Even the nobles suffered from it, much less smallfolk who valued every coin.)

"I see. We won't mention it in front of her, then," Cyreia decided. It wasn't even a matter of being dependent on Sayna, or at least not entirely. They would have survived even without her help; it would have taken a greater toll on their dignity, yes, but dignity was an overrated concept anyway. Just-- if Sayna was involved with the kidnappings, then suggesting they knew something about them could be dangerous, could it not? The woman would likely tell her friends, and people willing to resort to hunting children rarely tried to solve their problems peacefully. Hell, since these types saw little value in honor, they might as well slit their throats while they were asleep! That just wasn't the kind of risk Cyreia was willing to take. "We'll ask her about the council, but we won't tell her the true reason as to why. We can, uh, pretend we wish to stay in Eydar permanently and plan to ask the council about housing. They oversee these things too if my memory serves right, so it won't be that strange. We'll get the names, and then we can decide whether any of them seem trustworthy enough to talk to directly. Or maybe--" Cyreia's eyes lit up the way they always did whenever she got a particularly risky idea, "maybe there's another way, actually. You will keep her occupied and I'll investigate her room. What do you say?" Doing something like that to the person who had agreed to help them probably wasn't exactly honorable, either, but the same went for kidnapping defenseless fae. And if it turned out Sayna was completely innocent? Well, it wasn't like Cyreia planned to rob her. No real harm would befall the innskeeper if she just... went there and looked around.

 

[Conifer]

It comes as less surprise to Remin than it truly should how little protest she finds within herself at Cyeria's idea. A handful of months ago might be a more complicated story (or would it, considering how easily sneaking around had come to her when she'd had need of it?) but now there's nothing ringing alarm bells at the prospect of snooping around Sayna's things. If anything, she only thinks of how easy it'd be to distract her. The kitchen was far enough from her room that Remin could just...ask her to show her how to prepare some of the food they'd bought, and Cyeria'd have all but free reign over the place. If they had more nefarious intentions than just... making she she wasn't involved in the kidnapping of children, then she might find problem with it, but children were being kidnapped, after all. The two of them had to take some morally grey risks somewhere if they had any hope of discovering who might be taking the fae, and the first of those risks might as well be here.

"You're a terrible influence on me." Remin decides, amused and fond but not lacking in whatever scrap of seriousness seems necessary for right now, even if it's less than would be strictly appropriate. "But finding out what we can without jeopardizing our meager relationships in this town does...seem to be a logical option, doesn't it?" And she could do little to deny that look on Cyeria's face - it wasn't unlike the stray cats she'd seen, play-fighting without the safety of play (just measured risk and a delight in it.) It was charming. It was dangerous. It was far too attractive to Remin and to her noble sensibilities. "Alright. I can distract her, I'm sure, as long as you don't linger too long. I don't imagine there'll be too much to sort through, but just..we'll have to be careful. But we can manage it." They'd certainly managed more risky things - but perhaps being so confident now was only going to jinx them? The consequences would, at least, not be their immediate death, so it was a risk worth taking. "I'll ask her to show me how she prepared-- I don't know. Whatever she might be serving for dinner at the tavern, maybe? If we time it well enough, she might be working in the kitchen anyways."

 

[Aerynth]

"Well," Cyreia smiled, her own fondness mirroring Remin's, "I am your uncultured soldier. Is it not my job to push your boundaries?" Except that she had never had to. Once again, it baffled her just how easily they had settled into their rhythm; even back when they had barely known each other, cooperating had been simple. Natural, even. God, and to think she feared that she and her wife would have nothing to say to each other! Not that the assumption had been baseless, of course, but-- damn, so many things had turned out differently to what she had anticipated. It only went to show, Cyreia supposed, that becoming too sure of anything was foolish. Life just had a way of proving you wrong, it seemed.

"And I agree. Let's put our plan in motion in the evening, then. And since Ylan is safe for now-- would you mind terribly if I asked you to watch over him? Now that things have settled a bit, I want to go ask the blacksmith whether he is still looking for someone to help him. Not that I particularly want the job now, but Eydar is small, and the word spreads quickly. I'm sure Sayna would find it suspicious if I didn't visit him at all considering that she told me about him." (Cyreia could only hope that the word didn't spread quickly enough for her to learn of their attempt to save Ylan's life. Even if it did, though? It was still better to feed her multiple conflicting stories rather than a single one that revealed their guilt.) And so she left Ylan in Remin's care, placing a kiss on her forehead before going to find her potential employer.

The blacksmith... turned out to be an interesting man, to say the least. Cyreia had expected that some amount of convincing would be necessary here, mostly because women didn't really work anywhere near a forge in Eupriunia, but that didn't seem to bother him. Not even slightly. It took a single glance for him to decide that, yes, Cyreia would do, and so she spent the rest of the day moving things around, cleaning, and oddly enough, listening to endless complaints. The grocer did this, his wife did that-- soon, it really felt like her ears were going to fall off. No wonder nobody wanted to work for him! And the way dirt seemed to cling to every inch of her body by the time her shift ended? Truly, even wars were cleaner in comparison.

At least there were many things to do, though, which meant that time passed quickly. The sun was suddenly setting, and so Cyreia went to get Remin. And after that? They headed to Sayna's, of course. "Welcome back!" the woman greeted them. Their timing, if nothing else, seemed to be impeccable; some meal was clearly being prepared if the smell was any indication, but the various sounds that came from the kitchen suggested the work wasn't nearly done yet. "So, judging by the way the two of you look, it seems you got those jobs," she grinned, and for a moment, Cyreia felt guilty for even daring to suspect her. Only for a moment, though. Hadn't they established that the most terrible of people usually knew how to hide those aspects of their personality? Others wouldn't have tolerated them for long had they lacked that skill, after all. "Well?" Sayna raised her eyebrow. "What was your day like? I want to hear all the details!"

 

[Conifer]

The rest of the day went smoothly, especially considering how the morning had gone; the healer didn't have too much specific work for her for the rest of that day, not trusting her yet with the complicated mixtures that he had to make that day. She cut more ingredients small for him, and hung more to dry, but most of the afternoon was filled with scrubbing at stains and wearing out her muscles with the effort of repetition and trying to entertain a child at the same time. She wasn't going to complain, she really wasn't, but gods, how far she was from where she began. It wasn't that the work was beneath her - because it certainly wasn't anymore if it ever was - it was just that-- well, she just didn't do it. She'd never once been on her knees on a stone floor scrubbing soot from the space around the fireplace, and the fact that she was now really put into perspective how much everything had fallen apart. It was some miracle - or a lot of practiced effort - that she didn't cry in the face of it. No, that could wait until she was alone with Cyeria, who might understand her reasons, but hopefully could wait until she was entirely alone and she wouldn't have to explain much of anything to anyone. It was just...a lot. That's all it was. She'd manage it. She'd managed worse.

It only made her all the more grateful when the day ended. Remin was sore, muscles she rarely used stretched and aching, and it was surprising how dirty such a clean environment had let her get. Her skirt was stained with soot, her hands rubbed raw and dry, her sleeves still stained with blood - she tried not to think of any of those things. There were limited clothes, and so stains would have to be dealt with. She might be able to pull some of them away magically before they slept, but she imagined that Cyeria's clothes would be in a worse state; she might spend her efforts there, instead. There were other dresses Remin wouldn't feel uncomfortable in among those in the box, but the ones that suited Cyeria were fewer and further between. It'd be best to preserve hers.
She smiled - tiredly, but happily - when Cyeria arrived at the healer's to walk with her back to Sayna's, and a quick discussion with the healer confirmed that he'd watch the boy overnight, at least, to make sure his injuries didn't grow worse. If he was concerned about Ylan being taken in the night, he didn't show it. He'd been asleep for most of the late afternoon anyways - he'd been offered some aid for the pain that began to gnaw at him, and it had left him somewhat sedated. It didn't seem like that state would change soon.

"It was--" Remin hesitates. How much to tell Sayna? It was a small town; it was better to be as honest as they could be without laying all their cards on the table. "A lot, quite honestly." She gives Sayna at thin, tired smile, though it's barely more than a pulling of her lips. "A child was caught in a poacher's trap, and so it was rather immediately hands-on. But he's alright. He'll be alright. We're rather starving, though." She doubts Cyeria minds her pushing the conversation away from their days; she herself would like to hear about Cyeria's work at the blacksmith besides the brief words they'd shared on the short walk back here, but that's not a conversation they need Sayna present for. "And my wife's utterly filthy. Is there any chance I could help you with dinner in exchange for a few plates of it and payment once we're paid, while she goes to clean off?"

 

[Aerynth]

"Oh," Sayna smiled. "A trial by fire, then? That's the best thing that can happen to you, I think. You'll learn faster that way. When you teach a child to swim, you should just throw them in the water, too!" If the news of a child getting hurt by the poachers' trap meant something to her, then she didn't let it show on her face. No, Sayna just... looked like someone who heard a vaguely interesting story. "It's a damn shame about the boy, though. I keep saying they should do something about those poachers, but do you think that people listen to me? No. Somehow, there are always more important things to tend to. A bunch of fools, I tell you."

"More important things?" Cyreia asked. "I mean, this seems kind of important to me. When you can't even move around the town safely-- it's a concern, isn't it?" Everything about this was a concern, especially the whole deal with the fae, but she took great care not to mention that. Because if Sayna told them about the supernatural aspect unprompted? It wouldn't mean that they could trust her - not necessarily - but it would at least mean that she wasn't trying to hide it from them, and that would perhaps win her a few points.

"That it is!" the other woman agreed. "And it's not about the safety only, either; it's getting more and more difficult to pay the damn taxes when we can't even enter the damn forest. Everyone wants to build new things, but out of what wood? Out of what stone? It is all so backwards I want to cry. Naturally, the lord overseeing us won't help us, either. Lord Rayder, that's his name. Do you know him?"

"No," Cyreia lied through her teeth. The reality was that she knew him more than she would have liked to; they had met during one of Eupriunia's pointless conquests, and he had been possibly the worst type of man to cooperate with. Perhaps he had grown up in the meantime, but back then? His head had been full of dreams of glory, but empty otherwise, and just trying to keep him alive had consumed nearly all of her energy. It had quite possibly been the most draining campaign ever. Cyreia just hoped he lived far, far from here because-- well, lord Rayder knew very well what Avther looked like, and as such, the two of them meeting had the potential to turn very ugly.

"Well, be glad, then! He's an incompetent oaf who only really cares about the mining towns in his region and such. We don't bring him enough money, so we're not worth the effort, apparently. But yes, you should go wash yourself; the washroom is next to my bedroom. And Isara, I won't turn your offer down if you insist. Come with me, there are still some vegetables in need of being chopped."

...huh. No mention of the fae, then. Now that was curious indeed! "Well. See you later then, love," Cyreia kissed Remin on her cheek. "And don't be surprised if I take a while. I feel like I could spend ages in the bathroom right now without becoming even remotely cleaner." There, that would explain her (likely prolonged) absence nicely. Not that she planned to spend the entire evening in Sayna's room, but this, at least, gave her a justification for taking her sweet time. And with that, Cyreia headed upstairs. The bathroom actually was her first destination, but she only spent a few minutes there; her hands were dirty, after all, and she didn't need to notify Sayna of her exploits by leaving her handprints all over the place. No, that would have been staggeringly stupid. After scrubbing her hands clean, she entered Sayna's rooms quietly. Now, where to start with her search?

Meanwhile, Sayna and Remin were working on the dinner together. "I hope you don't mind we won't have any meat today," the woman said, her tone downright apologetic. "It's too expensive for me to afford every day, you know. But enough about that. How do you like Eydar so far? Is it very different from your hometown? I imagine it must be! Where are you from, anyway?"

 

[Conifer]

Remin had opinions about Sayna's proposed method of teaching children to swim, but saying them aloud would do literally no one any good, and so instead she simply frowned softly at both that and her lack of proper reaction to the news that someone had been badly injured, and a child at that. Surely with this having been happening for ten years, she'd be a...little more concerned at news of a child being injured in the woods? Ylan certainly had been, and his parents equally in their own ways. They didn't, at least, change the subject away from the event at the first opportunity. And Sayna...certainly had. She'd changed it rather quickly to a motive, really, or at least a potential one.

Remin looked over the woman quietly, trying to read anything from her face, her tone, her words. Was she capable of covering up kidnapping? Of fae-snatching? She brought blame to the poachers, yes, but what did that mean? Perhaps Remin was just paranoid, or maybe Sayna was trying to shift blame, shift suspicion. If she outwardly spoke against the poachers, then who would consider her among their mess? (On second thought, perhaps Remin was just paranoid. Sayna had been nothing but kind to them, and nothing but pleasant, if blasé, now. How were they supposed to find who did any of this in the next three days? Would they, or would they just wander around the town wildly accusing perfectly nice and innocent people of this awfulness because the two of them were desperate and distrustful?)

Well. They'll find out if there's anything to worry about with Sayna. "See you soon," Remin murmured softly as Cyeria's lips pressed to her cheek, and she leaned lightly into the touch before letting the woman depart. This was important and mildly time sensitive, after all; there would be plenty of time for affection once they'd either found proof of Sayna's crimes or proof of her innocence. She watched Cyeria go with a soft, fond smile all the same, though. It wasn't that time sensitive. "No," Remin assures Sayna as she follows her into the kitchen. "I avoid meat where I can lately anyways." Most of the effects of that mess had left her by now, but that particular oddity still clung to her. Meat itself was fine, but the instant it was any form of dark and unrecognizable immediately, it left the feeling of bile at the back of her throat. And there was a lot of dark, unrecognizable meat in the world. "So that won't be a problem for me, but I appreciate the concern."

It's easy enough to start chopping at the vegetables. Most of her day has been split between scrubbing and chopping, and between the thin bits of dirt on the produce from the fields and the need for them to not be whole, that doesn't change now. "Oh, I'm from-" They'd had Athean coin, hadn't they? But was Athea a risk to mention? "-Athea." She admits. It's easier to keep near to the truth. "Though I haven't been back in years, with schooling and work and meeting Cyeria. Eydar's lovely, though. We're considering just...staying, quite honestly? Everyone's been so kind to us, and my research is local." She could be useful in this distraction, at least, and search for some of the information they needed herself as Cyeria rooted through her room. "Do you know who we might speak to about that? I'd assume Lord Rayder doesn't deal with that much." She rather knows for a fact that he wouldn't, if their system here's anything like Athea. It'd be ridiculous for him to, if he had power over multiple places as Sayna had suggested he did.

 

[Aerynth]

Sayna's room was-- just a regular room, really. The woman seemed to be less tidy than the most, with clothes spread over various pieces of furniture, but then again, perhaps she had merely had a busy day. When patrons came, after all, they wanted to drink, and they wanted to do it immediately. Besides, why keep your room in an immaculate state if you weren't expecting a visit? (Which Sayna very much wasn't. Ugh, and now guilt washed over her again. What did it say about her that she had turned against their sole benefactor so easily? That her ability to trust in other people had been mangled beyond repair? And could someone like that even make for a passable king? Cyreia had her doubts, but she pushed them aside. None of this mattered at the moment, after all; not Athea, not her missing crown or these pseudo-philosophical concerns. Right, the missing children. That was what she needed to focus on!)

The contents of Sayna's room didn't make it any easier, though. Everything about it screamed ordinary; Cyreia just kept finding clothes, clothes and more clothes. Beneath all the shirts, there was a tiny locket, too, and when she opened it, a picture of a young woman revealed itself to her. Sayna's daughter, perhaps? Or maybe even Sayna herself when she had been younger? The features in her face looked similar enough that it may as well have been the case. Either way, there wasn't anything suspicious about this, either. Hmmm. Could it be that Alistair had fed Remin wrong information? The boy could have been just scared of Sayna for some unrelated reason, after all; stern adults tended to rouse such emotions in children. Yes, that seemed accurate enough. Cyreia... didn't actually know whether she welcomed that development or not. On one hand, Sayna being innocent did please her, but-- well, it also meant they were back to square one, with no clues to speak of. With no clues to speak of and three days to solve this mess. Ugh. This meant, she supposed, that they would have to question Alistair again whether they liked it or not. As she walked back to the door, though, Cyreia stumbled over-- what was it? A loose plank? A loose pank with something underneath it, as it turned out. Alright, now that seemed potentially interesting. What could it be? With bated breath, Cyreia knelt down on the floor and began removing the plank.

"Athea, huh?" Sayna looked at Remin, her expression sad more than anything else. "Shame about the war. I mean, we were good neighbors while it lasted. Then again, our king knows what he's doing, so it may be that we'll be good neighbors once again when all is said and done. Just under different terms." A strange euphemism for being turned into a colony, more or less, but it was doubtful that Sayna actually understood all the implications the new relationship between Athea and Eupriunia entailed. Innskeepers weren't usually experts on politics, after all. "But oh, it would be so nice if you stayed! We don't get new blood that often, and I'm sure the whole town would get that much more lively with you around. And you're right, the lord doesn't give a damn about these things. You want to speak to the council members, which means me, Jerome the miller and Dalynn the wise woman. I doubt any of them will dislike the idea of you two moving in there, but you need to visit all of them nonetheless. It's the usual procedure, and Dalynn especially hates breaking the protocol." Sayna snorted as if she personally found that absurd. "She's a bit of a stickler for the rules. Speaking of the rules, you'll need a seal from every council member involved if you are to stay here. I will go get mine right away."

 

[Conifer]

The plank took only some small amount of work to pry lose - nails were haphazardly jammed into slots too loose to hold anything down properly. Evidently, this particular piece of rough wood had been pried up and tacked back down a few times at this point. The space beneath was spacious, if short, running the length and width of a portion of the floor beneath the bedroom, though eventually cut into by support beams and cobwebs. But the size of it didn't matter much in the scheme of things - what mattered was the two metal boxes, tucked just under the lip of the next board. The rusted, painted-but-peeling things lay just out of immediate sight, but weren't difficult to see if you were searching for something beneath the board. One was larger than the other, wider and longer and a bit difficult to pull from the space. It was heavy and made the too-loud sound of clattering metal against metal against metal as Cyeria pulled it free from this secret hiding spot. There was no lock - was that confidence or an inability to find a box with a lock in this small town? - on it, but a simple latch that fell open under quick work. The other was similarly simple to open, though much lighter. Its contents still shifted a bit as it was maneuvered free, but didn't make much sound at all.

The first box contained perhaps either nothing or everything of note. It was utterly full of money. Mostly small coins - it wasn't as high an amount as one might assume a box full of money contained, but it certainly held more than any one person in this town had seen in a very, very long time, business or not. It was enough to last someone here years, easily. The coins all seemed to be Eupriunian and unremarkable besides their number, and that seemed to be the only thing contained in this box. They other, however, had a bit more excitement to its contents. It was full of paperwork. Nothing quite as red-handed as contracts, which might have been nice to find in all this mess - it would make things simpler, at least - but paperwork all the same. Some of it was official and mundane; the deed to the land, the building permits for the tavern, the usual things one might expect to find in a place like this. The rest of it was...mysterious at best. A small pad of paper, leather-bound and wrapped tightly, contained a running tally of clumsily-written numbers, unsteady math done in the sidelines, clearly written by someone who didn't have much familiarity with either the written word or mathematics, but had enough to get by. It was safe enough to assume it was Sayna's own writing. The amounts varied wildly. Sometimes it was a small handful subtracted from the total - 2 or 3, a small drop in the scheme of that larger amount - or sometimes something larger - 24, 16, 40. And sometimes even still, amounts were added. Those numbers were always larger, usually in the two-hundreds. That occurred ten times through this small, nondescript book, with the last addition being near the end of this tally.

Remin found some comfort in the fact that her Athean reveal didn't raise anything but sympathy from Sayna. There were a lot of opinions someone might have towards people from the place their country ruined, and sympathy was one of the better ones to be faced with, even if it was clear that there was no proper understanding of the politics behind it. That's fine. Remin didn't need proper understanding, she just needed someone who didn't kick her from the kitchen for her nationality. "Oh, that's alright." Remin says, trying not to sound too quick about her reply. "We still have a lot to discuss about it. It's a big change, after all. We might not be staying after all, but it's certainly something we're considering. We'll come to a decision and then worry about all the seals." It's a conscious effort to continue her work of chopping and not seeming too suspicious. Remin didn't know where that seal was, but it was a safe bet that it was probably tucked away in Sayna's room, and even if it wasn't, the kitchen - rather removed from the rest of the building - was the safest place for her to keep the woman right now. Hopefully Cyeria was acting quickly. "Did you grow up here?" Remin asks, hoping to distract the woman with nostalgic stories. "It seems like such a nice little place to have done so."