Cocoa Fortune ARC 1: French Toast

Divergence from: https://churchofproz.forumotion.net/t1479-cocoa-fortune-rearc-the-first#31818

The outpost is a modest shelter attached to a currency exchange kiosk. Culliac reports the situation to the six men on duty.
"A man from Fei escaping custody? This could be our big break. Thanks for letting us know kid, we'll get right on it."
The watch sergeant dispatches three guards to contain the situation at the holding cell. "If I don't hear back from you in ten minutes I'll call it in," he tells them as they leave.

Now freed of the obligation he took upon himself, Culliac now stands in middle of San Septmare's harbor district. Ahead of him are all kinds of waterfront-related shops and facilities, including an alehouse. The docks stretch out to his left, and on the right rise the blue-tinged stone walls that shield the city proper.

Culliac ask around for nearest recruitment station for the legions that are fighting on the eastern front, or retaking Enarou.

Culliac quickly finds his answer from an off-duty porter. "Wow, you're not afraid of them huh? Just head through the gate and head to the left, it's a big red-roofed barracks atop Watch Hill, you can't miss it."
It seems quite a commotion has broken out in the streets behind him, but he pays it no mind as it is already being handled by the proper authorities.
Culliac proceeds under the tall stone arch into the bustling city.
On his way to the barracks he sees quite a few organized 3 man and 4 man patrol groups, each consisting of:

• 1 armed city guard
  
• 1 or 2 priests
  
• 1 somewhat large hooded figure draped in a red and gray robe, bearing the flaming Tricorv on their chest and backs.
  

These patrols do not seem to be giving him any undue attention so he proceeds to the recruiter's office and declares his intent to join the campaign against the undead threat.
"A spear wielder huh? Well, it's good that you already know how to fight, saves time and effort that would have been spent on your training," the recruiter says, "But spears are known to be...less than effective against the undead. Are you sure you wouldn't rather help defend the Lymeshan border instead? Or perhaps pursue a fine career in the city watch?"

Culliac nods knowingly.

"That is true, however, I aim to defeat not only the undead themselves but those behind the undead menace. As for the shambling reanimated, my skill with the spear gives me a decent mastery of pole hammers too. See spears are not just used for thrusting, a fine spear crafted of iron or treated wood can crush bone with their sweeps."

"Well that's great I suppose but you don't get to choose. You'll be sent where command thinks your squad is needed most. I can't say for sure where that is but its definitely not the city watch. They have their own recruitment office. Knowing that, are you still set on joining us? This isn't something you can back out of at your convenience."

"In that case, don't you hire mercenaries? I do not feel like a long lasting career in the military is for me."

Hearing this a nearby soldier scoffs. "Mercenaries? Ha! This is the Royal Army, not some merchant caravan. If you're not sworn to king, kingdom or Quinince God Himself you can forget about wearing the sash. We can't trust some sellsword who'll turn on us as soon as he smells a better deal."

"Uh, that's not entirely true," the recruiter amends, "The Crown has paid for the services of fighters who have not taken oath, like Diamant company during the Schnawkwood Consumption."

"That was years ago, and they happened to be in the area. Better to help than sitting on their asses while good men risk their lives."

"Hm, were you actually there? Ah, never mind. The point is," the recruiter addresses Culliac, "We only take on mercenaries when they're affiliated with an established, trustworthy group. The nobility also takes on sellswords at their discretion, so you could try some of the local lords."

"Is there any way to guarantee that I will be deployed to Enarou, or some other place that has the undead scourge? I do not wish to guard the border or anything like that."

"You could just go by yourself, nobody's stopping you," the soldier says before walking away.

The recruiter sighs. "Well yes, the Church is always looking for young men with your zeal. I'm not sure why you didn't just go there instead if that's what you wanted. Do you need directions?"

"I will go by myself then."

Culliac goes and buys a map, and attempts to hitchhike towards Enarou on a merchant or mercenary caravan.

"It's a shame you are so eager to throw your life away, but I'm not your preacher," the recruiter remarks in resignation.

Culliac's initial trolling of markets and mercantile gatherings is largely fruitless, as even the mention of Enarou results in sullen silences and abrupt refusals from some merchants. But San Septmare is a big city, so he moves over to another, poorer looking district. Here he finds a five wagon caravan bound for Torian with spices and other food products.

The merchant in charge of the caravan is a lanky man with a bushy beard, who introduces himself as Acul. "Let me see that map? Okay, our route passes through the area just south of the Schnawkwood, so you can get off when we reach that halfway point, that'd be right here. It's still a long way to Enarou by foot, but my porters think we're veering too close as it is."

"Oi! Are you the fool boy who's been asking for passage to Enarou?" a scratchy voice calls out. Culliac turns to see an elderly woman with a blue bandanna tied around her short cropped graying curls. "Yeah, it's you alright. Don't worry, I'm just offering a ride, one much better than south of the Schnawkwood."

Acul's face is a mix of disdain and relief. "Looks like you're in luck, Goodman E'Taminet. I have affairs to attend to elsewhere, let my porters know if you're still interested." He heads into an office building while the woman sidles up to Culliac.

"I already agreed to take one poor soul into the heart of darkness, why not another? Hop on my train-" She indicates three wagons behind her that are being hitched up to go. "-and I'll take you straight to Enarou, or as close as I can get."

Culliac takes a good look over of the old woman and her wagon train before nodding.

"I thank you, madame. I have nothing much to offer in return, but I will protect you on the way there if that is any consolation."

He looks for the other poor soul who is going to Enarou out of curiosity.

The old woman wears a leather vest and a knife belt over a thick wool shirt and leggings. The wagons look weathered but serviceable, carrying light loads of crates and packages. Among the porters there are a few shady looking or fancily dressed individuals, but for the most part they are rugged, hardy commoners who look like they know how to use the axes and swords they carry.
"It's no trouble for a nice boy like you, foolish though you are. Most folks give me crap about what I'm doing in this business at this age, or tell me to 'go home and be a family man', whatever that means. Do I really look like I'm a man? Wait, don't answer that."
She walks over and knocks on the side of the last wagon. "Oi, you got company. Another bound for Enarou."
Leaning against the back is a woman a few inches shorter than Culliac with what appears to be a bushy black shawl draped over her shoulders. Her appearance is similar to that of the Feiren and others from the southern continent, making it difficult for Culliac to determine her age, though the lack of wrinkles would suggest she is on the young side.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about trouble with Inquisitors or whatnot," the caravan leader cautions. "She's not Feiren, she's... now where did you say you were from, miss?"
"I didn't," the young woman replies in an even tone. Her almond shaped eyes pass over Culliac.

"Er...right. Well, it's not my job to pry." The caravan leader raises her voice. "Alright, we will be leaving San Septmare within the hour, so if you have anything left in this city do it now or not at all!"

Culliac grabs some wood to craft a shield on the way, and leaves on the caravan.

A bit pressed for time, Culliac parts with a few rooks to ensure the wood is of sufficient quality, then jumps on the back of the last wagon, which is relatively empty of goods.
"Reins up! Reeeeins up!" The caravan leader calls out. Hooves beat, harnesses draw taut, and the caravan is off.
The ride starts out initially bumpy as the wheels go down the cobblestone streets of the lower district.
After a quick stop at the city gate checkpoint, the caravan rolls through a smooth covered bridge spanning a small portion of the great river and emerges into tranquil farmland.
Culliac spies some large gatherings of people off in the distance, but the wagons are not headed in their direction.
The caravan accelerates, and any looking to the rear would behold the full glory of San Septmare as it grows smaller.

There are four other passengers in the last wagon: a well dressed man with a herald's cap sporting a blue hydrangea, and a hooded couple of commoners wearing ratty brown robes, and the strange woman in the black shawl. The first three generally try to avoid eye contact and keep their distance from Culliac and the woman, at least as much as they can in the confined space of the cab.

"You are also going to...Enarou, yes?" the woman suddenly asks of Culliac. "Could it be that you too seek out the...undead?"

"I'm not sure if it is really the undead, or some other type of malady, as I have not personally been there. But yes, I'm heading to Enarou for the undead." Culliac nods.

"Excellent. Perhaps you can be of aid to me. It's my intention to capture some of these 'ghoul' creatures... without de-animating them. Alive, to put it in horribly inaccurate footman's terms."
Her words are a bit brazen given the increased tension with the other travelers.
"Do you think you can help me with this?"

Culliac gives it some thought, and concludes that there is no harm in trying. He nods.

"Fine, but I will stand by while you experiment on them to make sure no harm comes out of their continued existence."