[b]Adrian, Victor and Maellinn
The Road to Eamonvale[/b]

The sun hung high over the plains of Eamonvale, illuminating vast rolling meadows of yellow-green grass that rippled constantly with the buffeting wind. It had been a fairly peaceful ride out of Bradle’s Worth, partially due to the time; at that hour, many village folk had taken to the fields to tend to their crops. Judging by the stumpy shadows on the boulders peppering the landscape, it was now approaching mid-day.

The rustling and movement coming from within the wagon notified Maellinn and Victor that Adrian had woken up from her nap. Moments later, a head with a crop of ginger hair and a couple of blinking green eyes popped out from under the canvas flap, situating itself smack between the two drivers, idly munching on what appeared to be a wild carrot. 

“So what is this, a baker journeying north to become a master?” Victor directed his question at Maellinn while focusing his attention at the newly risen Adrian, reaching out to pat her ginger tuft of hair.

“No, not quite,” Maellin answered, her eyes bouncing back and forth from the road to her two new companions. 

“I’m looking for something, I think it is up north,” She continued, “besides that, I’m just enjoying the journey.”

“So an adventurous soul type thing? I understand pretty well, it’s how I started.” Victor nodded.

“That’s fun,” Maellinn smiled, keeping her eyes on John, “and how did Adrian get wrapped up in all this?”

“I stayed in a forest,” Adrian explained - or at least, attempted to explain. “It was-...safe there. Safer than home. Once I was able to, I left to find my people. But it wasn't snowing anymore, and I did not know where I was. I asked Victor to help.”

“Well that sounds lovely, the forest I mean, but I don’t think I understand,” Maellinn bounced her eyes towards Adrian briefly, “what were you doing in a forest?”

“I don't know,” Adrian replied blandly. “I went inside a long time ago.”

“She’s a bit of a mystery. I’ve had to help lost children before but… not -this- lost.” Victor interjected, looking at Adrian apologetically. Adrian muttered something about not being a kid anymore as she squirmed back into the covered wagon. “You ever encounter any trouble before? On your journeys.” He turned back to Maellinn.

Maellinn stared at John for a second or two before replying, “just once, but I seem to get along just fine. I may even be lucky!”

“How about you, many troubles? I can’t imagine life as a famous adventurer to be calm and peaceful,” Maellinn happily redirected the questions back at Victor. 

“I’m not that famous, thankfully. Helps me focus on actually doing my job…” he trailed off before adding: “But no. Aside from being on the hunt I don’t encounter much trouble. Maybe if I’m working in a city or I’m stopped by highwaymen. I try to get by peacefully most of the time, less of a chance of winding up hurt or worse.” He explained, leaning back into his seat and casually watching their surroundings change.

“That makes sense,” Maellinn focused on driving, an ambient smile on her face, “where are you from?”

“Way up in the north. Small town in the heart of the northern alliance. Been a few years since I was up there.” he hesitated, eyes fixing themselves onto the road. “You?”.

“A small town tucked away in Urland, just enough people passing through to keep an independent store running,” Maellinn nodded, “but not much else. John was born there though, so that’s something.”

Victor’s eyes wandered onto the rump of the wandering ox, then shot a side glance at Maellinn in a confused manner without further comment. “Are you good at your profession? Baking.” he asked.

Meallinn glanced at Victor, a hurt expression in her eyes, “I like to think so, been doing it my whole life.”

Victor nodded, he had no prior interaction with a baker so he was unsure of how to carry out their conversation. “...what’s your favourite thing to bake?” he asked again with uncertainty, his stare intensifying. 

“Pies,” Maellinn answered with absolute certainty, “You can really put whatever you want in them. What’s your favourite thing to hunt?”

“Ghosts and spirits. They’re one of the few ‘monsters’ you don’t need to kill to stop.” he said, shifting his gaze over their shoulder at the back of the wagon Adrian had vanished off into. “Adrian? You’re being awfully quiet.” Adrian’s head popped out again, a mouthful of leaves disappearing under her palm as she struggled to eat them all in one go.

“Hmmhph-...ghofts?” Adrian asked, looking confused.

“Yes, you know: Spectres, Wraiths, Banshees.” Victor leaned aside, providing more space for Adrian if she decided to crawl out. Adrian gladly took the opportunity, squeezing between Maellinn and Victor and peering out across the countryside, then down at John.

“What is wrong with your bison,” Adrian peered at it uncertainly. “It has no hair…”

Maellinn was just about to add to Victor’s list when Adrian question stumped her silent. Growing a polite smile she looked towards Adrian, “Oh, John isn’t a bison, he is an oxen! A big ol’ bull bred to be strong and tough, to do all sorts of things..”

“John is special though,” Maellinn let go of her driving branch and placed it across her lap, “biggest and strongest ox I ever met. Smart as a whip, too. Ain’t that right, John?”

The ox snorted as it continued it’s slow and steady pull.