Guess Loren was headed back into the woods. Well, he had some experience with evil trees, at least, so sick ones should be no problem. ”I’ll check out the Greatwood then. Only after properly understanding its risks, of course.” He added that last part for Jigano’s benefit: although the Launceleyn still felt he’d survive whatever he might encounter there, he figured there was speedy and then there was downright reckless. Besides, he knew it was the home of the Fae, and relations with them were already strained, so the summoner hardly wanted to contribute to that.
”That’s odd, though, isn’t it? How it can spread among people anywhere, but only between plants and animals in the Greatwood? I wonder if the flora and fauna of the Hollowed Grounds have some property that those in the Greatwood lack, or vice versa, or if its a feature of the geography instead. And what about people in particular that makes them susceptible? Do you know if anyone’s tried to take a plant from here and exposed it to the blight in the Greatwood? Perhaps it was unwise to speak so cavalierly about the transmission, given that the white-haired man was sick, and it was likely someone else had already investigated this. If so, Loren had no doubt he’d be swiftly corrected.
As the bard spoke of his ailment (or his curse, rather, as it seemed too extreme for a common illness), all the Launceleyn could do was give the other man a sympathetic look. ”Well, given that I didn’t know, you were successful in that much, at least.” The summoner did his best to keep his voice cheerful, but given his own lingering sadness and the situation they were in, it didn’t really work. He didn’t bother trying to reassure the white-haired man that they’d find a cure: it would sound hollow coming from Loren. Instead, he chose to try and make up for his behavior when they’d first met and the Launceleyn hadn’t really been himself yet. ”Yeah, I was a real asshole. Sorry again.” The easy admission and levity seemed out of place on the somber and solemn summoner, but it didn’t last long. ”But, despite my first impression, I would appreciate it if you came to me if you thought there was any way I might be useful.” The rage-filled monster in the woods that had been Loren that day was a product of his family, he realized now; seeing them, even in a vision granted by a puddle, must’ve triggered something, some reflex deep within the summoner.
Then the family gave him yet another reason to lose his temper. Thankfully, he was only a bit annoyed. ”Seriously?! Maybe knocking the place down and rebuilding from scratch is the solution after all.” He couldn’t help the note of exasperation from creeping into his voice. Honestly, Zariah’s paranoia had been bad, but that sounded so much worse. ”Well, there’s not much I can do about her surveillance, if it even exists. But I’m not too worried. She’s not here, so it’s not like the information can benefit her, and even if she was, what’s the worst she could do, torture me again?” Although the summoner doesn’t know where the sudden bout of gallows humor came from, it seemed entirely appropriate under the circumstances.
Loren hesitated when Jigano brought up the alchemist. ”I’d be happy to meet you in two days at the oasis, but,” the Launceleyn bit his lip, considering. ”Let’s not invite Remi. If it doesn’t work, no harm done and we’ll have avoided wasting his time, and if it does, we can give him some good news for once.” Although mostly Loren was trying to avoid seeing the alchemist so soon after their reunion—he wasn’t sure how he felt about it quite yet, especially for something that was not strictly necessary—he also was legitimately concerned about taking up that most precious resource, time. At the very least, Remi could spend it with Ronin rather than out in the wilderness chasing down a wild theory. Loren waved away Jigano’s concern. ”If anyone is to blame, it’s me and my magic and my lack of imagination.” Indeed, the bard had gone above and beyond, and the summoner was doing the bare minimum he could.
It just didn’t feel like enough.
”That’s odd, though, isn’t it? How it can spread among people anywhere, but only between plants and animals in the Greatwood? I wonder if the flora and fauna of the Hollowed Grounds have some property that those in the Greatwood lack, or vice versa, or if its a feature of the geography instead. And what about people in particular that makes them susceptible? Do you know if anyone’s tried to take a plant from here and exposed it to the blight in the Greatwood? Perhaps it was unwise to speak so cavalierly about the transmission, given that the white-haired man was sick, and it was likely someone else had already investigated this. If so, Loren had no doubt he’d be swiftly corrected.
As the bard spoke of his ailment (or his curse, rather, as it seemed too extreme for a common illness), all the Launceleyn could do was give the other man a sympathetic look. ”Well, given that I didn’t know, you were successful in that much, at least.” The summoner did his best to keep his voice cheerful, but given his own lingering sadness and the situation they were in, it didn’t really work. He didn’t bother trying to reassure the white-haired man that they’d find a cure: it would sound hollow coming from Loren. Instead, he chose to try and make up for his behavior when they’d first met and the Launceleyn hadn’t really been himself yet. ”Yeah, I was a real asshole. Sorry again.” The easy admission and levity seemed out of place on the somber and solemn summoner, but it didn’t last long. ”But, despite my first impression, I would appreciate it if you came to me if you thought there was any way I might be useful.” The rage-filled monster in the woods that had been Loren that day was a product of his family, he realized now; seeing them, even in a vision granted by a puddle, must’ve triggered something, some reflex deep within the summoner.
Then the family gave him yet another reason to lose his temper. Thankfully, he was only a bit annoyed. ”Seriously?! Maybe knocking the place down and rebuilding from scratch is the solution after all.” He couldn’t help the note of exasperation from creeping into his voice. Honestly, Zariah’s paranoia had been bad, but that sounded so much worse. ”Well, there’s not much I can do about her surveillance, if it even exists. But I’m not too worried. She’s not here, so it’s not like the information can benefit her, and even if she was, what’s the worst she could do, torture me again?” Although the summoner doesn’t know where the sudden bout of gallows humor came from, it seemed entirely appropriate under the circumstances.
Loren hesitated when Jigano brought up the alchemist. ”I’d be happy to meet you in two days at the oasis, but,” the Launceleyn bit his lip, considering. ”Let’s not invite Remi. If it doesn’t work, no harm done and we’ll have avoided wasting his time, and if it does, we can give him some good news for once.” Although mostly Loren was trying to avoid seeing the alchemist so soon after their reunion—he wasn’t sure how he felt about it quite yet, especially for something that was not strictly necessary—he also was legitimately concerned about taking up that most precious resource, time. At the very least, Remi could spend it with Ronin rather than out in the wilderness chasing down a wild theory. Loren waved away Jigano’s concern. ”If anyone is to blame, it’s me and my magic and my lack of imagination.” Indeed, the bard had gone above and beyond, and the summoner was doing the bare minimum he could.
It just didn’t feel like enough.
