Around the time that Pyra's rock ricocheted off the roof, the cart roared to life with a series of hefting [i]clanks[/i]. Rolling wheels began to tread across the barracks floor at a steady pace. Marilyn had gotten things moving already! That didn't put Zay in the best mood though. He peeled his eyes open and grunted before getting back on his feet with a light swing of his legs.

	"Right, I guess we're moving already." 

	Of course they were! It was past 10 AM already. If they didn't leave now, they were sure to fall behind schedule. What bothered Zay is that he wouldn't be allowed to take his little nap until after all the formalities had been dealt with, the first of which included answering to [b]Major Hanz Farrell.[/b] He stood up and walked towards the pilot's balcony, hefting himself forward like he was wading through tar.

	The front of the Caravan was awfully spacious, despite the fact that Marilyn would be the only one out front most of the time. There was an overhang above to prevent the weather and sun from interfering with the pilot's work, held in place by two pillars at the both front-most corners of the bow. A single seat sat between them for the pilot to sit, with a low hanging fence reaching about a foot above Zay's knees all around the exterior. It prevented falling forward [i]sometimes,[/i] but its main purpose was to keep the cart attached to its Venbu. There were several latches attached to intricate harnesses that wrapped around the entire body of each Venbu, to which Marilyn had full control over their movement with a combination of the right verbal commands and gentle tugs. A lot of new pilots had a tendency to [i]pull[/i] their reigns without restraint, but Marilyn looked like she'd been working the beasts for decades already! A natural pro. Behind her seat were two rows of benches were the rest of the crew would sit if they needed to see further out, with a small path in the middle that lead back into the Caravan. Behind those seat, and to the right side of the Caravan's entrance, there was a small ladder leading up onto the roof through a hatch in the overhang. The roof above them was flattened, with a couple benches on either side and an equally high fence installed for safety.

	As they approached the exit gate, it opened wide and the Venbu came to a stop just outside. Major Farrell was waiting near the side of the archway with a clipboard in his hand, just as expected. 

	"Caravan Centaurus, lead by..." He looked up and snickered when he realized it to be true. "...Captain Zay Copp. You've been confirmed for takeoff at 10 AM." He checked his watch and nodded. "Proceed to the [b]Sunken Ramparts[/b] for final review." He knocked on the side of the Caravan to signal they were free to leave, and smirked. "Good luck."

	"It's just a diplomacy mission Hanz. Get your head outta' your ass," Zay spat, gentle tapping Marilyn's shoulder. The girl nodded and whipped her reigns. Hanz kissed his teeth and returned to his clipboard as the Venbu pulled their Caravan through Arcadia.

	"You don't see many Eldi with the knights," Noru grunted, moving from his bunk towards the small rounded table, "If we don't demonstrate some level of camaraderie, Captain Copp will start to share his diminutive tales of [i]loss.[/i] It isn't good for morale." He looked around the cart for a moment. Flin and Daelin didn't seem too walled off from everyone else. But the other two didn't even look like they wanted to be here. [i]Even Marilyn[/i] demonstrated her excitement, albeit through a series of nervous bouncing. That girl had her head in the clouds. "I don't suppose this is your first time outside the walls?" His voice was dripping with judgement. Noru hated having to mingle, [i]and he wasn't too fond of the Eldi,[/i] but knew that there was some truth to Zay's little spiels. The better you knew somebody, the better you'd work together. He just wished there wasn't a need to mix and match Knights in each Caravan between every damn mission.

[center][h1][color=ed1c24]* * *[/color][/h1]

[i]10:25 AM[/i]
Berganfont Main Square, Lilith's Keg[/center]

	Smack dab in the middle of Berganfont sat a sad little establishment that served food and drink. It was smaller than most, maybe 800 square feet in its entirety, counting the front, the kitchen, and where the owners slept. From outside it looked like a dump. Vines and mold climbed one side of the building, wrapping around its only window towards the sign that read 'Lily's Keg' above the hollow door frame that lead inside. 

	Despite its unsavory exterior, the interior was [i]very clean.[/i] Two small tables sat on either side of the front room with a few wooden chairs that looked like they'd gone through the sea at least twice. The bar itself reached across the entire width of the room, but it looked [i]absolutely brand new.[/i] That was because the human owner, [b]Lilith Casteli[/b] could be found behind the bar at almost any point in the day until 4 AM, polishing it clean with one of her rags. Lilith was a fine looking woman, lithe and gentle albeit with a rough way of handling things. She always kept her curly brown hair in a bun while she worked, but could never stop a few strands from getting free by the afternoon. Most would define her as a [i]well kept woman with the working spirit of a horse[/i], but she was awfully skinny for her height. Truth was, she starved herself for her kids a lot of the time, but you could never tell by looking at her.

	For most, Lilith's little home away from home was a cheap retreat from Berganfont's slowly declining economy. For those with money, it was a quaint escape from the [b]High Houses[/b] where their expensive dining had lost its flair. The generous tips that those rich folk left in their wake were the only thing keeping her afloat. She didn't know what she would do if they stopped coming around. The last thing her family wanted was for their mother to fall into the underground world of [i]prostitution.[/i] They'd sooner become thieves! Imagine that, two teenage boys willing to pickpocket to protect their mother. It was heartwarming and devastating, all the same.

	Most lived like that in the [b]Low Houses.[/b] Without magic to keep their city growing Berganfont could only depend on trade and [i]luck.[/i] The Nation was lucky enough to even [i]exist.[/i] Monsters didn't come around, but its people couldn't escape the borders either. They depended solely on the [i]private [/i]Caravans that came from Arcadia and Marrenfall to keep afloat. Where did that leave people like the Castelis? In hell.

	This morning was quieter than most for Lilith, but she didn't mind. The lull in business gave her time to think and prepare for the rest of the day. With only 5 hours of sleep, it was moments like this that gave her the strength to move on. She was methodical like that, polishing glasses and fervently rubbing rags across the bar top to keep herself calm. She'd often stare at customers too long or lose herself daydreaming if she didn't manage herself properly, not that the regulars cared all that much. They were just happy to have a healthy [i]distraction,[/i] both in the bar's product, and Lilith herself. Who could get tired of looking at those softly lit emerald eyes? Even when she spoke, her customers found it comforting. She didn't even have to lie to them, or hold back her own woes. Her honesty and [i]pretty face[/i], paired with a comforting tune, kept the Low House drunks in good company. Despite all of the poor conditions, the community in this drab chunk of Berganfont was tightly knit. Lilith just happened to be a focal point for a few souls at a time.

	The doorbell chimed and Lilith snapped out of her stupor almost immediately. It wasn't one of her regulars, not anyone from the [i]Low Houses[/i] anyways. She recognized him as [b]Father Myron,[/b] one of the priests of the local church. Lilith wasn't religious at all, [i]she hated the gods and their teachings in any light,[/i] but she saw Father Myron almost on a daily basis. He'd order something to eat if it was early or something to drink if it was late, all while trying to convince Lilith to attend his service at least [i]once.[/i] She'd always politely decline him. Father Myron spent [i]a lot[/i] of money at her place. Telling him to take a hike was not in her best interest. As he approached the bar, draped in a black robe with his dark hair slicked back neatly, he offered Lilith a smile. She smiled back, waving her dainty little arm for half a second before returning her attention to the bar top.

	"That looks clean," Myron assured her. His voice was just unusually hoarse today. For a man in his twenties who spoke to a hall of over 200 people daily, maybe it [i]wasn't[/i] too unusual. For Lilith, it was strange enough to hear Myron's [i]usual[/i] voice tampered so terribly.

	"You're not soundin' too smooth today, Myron," Lilith barked, ignoring his comment while she continued to polish the bar top.

	"Sickness my de-"

	"Sickness my ass, you've been going to those Bishop Ceremonies, haven't you?" Myron sat down and interlocked his fingers quietly. "You know that shit is shady Myron."

	"They've given me a chance," He rasped, "[b]Arch Bishop Ramon[/b] made it happen himself... He came to me directly. I'd be a fool to decline his offer." Lilith's gentle features went tense. She shook her head so violently that her curly brown hair flailed from side to side, almost coming undone from its tightly wrapped bun. "Don't do that."

	"Shaddup." Lilith slammed the bar top and looked towards the doorway behind her. "Boys! Eggs! Myron style!" Two little voices barely rang back with acknowledgement.

	[sub]"Of course!"
	"You bet!"[/sub]

	"That's fine, right?" Myron nodded. Lilith looked him over with the corner of her mouth pulled back anxiously. She'd taken a liking to Myron despite all of his holy speeches. He wasn't a bad guy, [i]and he certainly wasn't bad looking either.[/i] He was just a little too eager to serve his superiors, and that [i]stupid god of his.[/i] The priest stared at his fingers nervously, waiting for his food to arrive. Usually he'd be talking up a storm by now. His vocal chords probably wouldn't allow it though. "You know, you're starting to look and sound like the Bishops more and more each day." Myron smiled. Lilith frowned. "That's not a compliment.

	"It is, though."

	"No, it's not. Those people are seriously [i]messed up[/i] Myron!" She grunted to herself and put both hand son her hips. "Do you know how many priests go missing every year to that shit?"

	"The unworthy." Lilith froze and her eyes went incredibly wide.

	"[i]Excuse me?![/i]" Myron looked up at Lilith with his mouth hanging open.

	"S-Sorry." She shook her head and slapped her rag on the bar top.

	"Get out."

	"I didn't mean to insult-"

	"No no, I know what you meant. Get out." Lilith's children shimmied up to the side of the kitchen's door frame and peered around its edge. One of them wielded a spatula aggressively, standing a few inches taller than his brother. Myron sat quietly, not moving a muscle. "I don't mean later. I mean now. Right now." The priest's eyes wandered until he let out a sad huff and pushed himself away from the bar. He began making his way out of Lilith's place, half expecting her to call him back.

	She didn't.