[center]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5582552][img]https://i.ibb.co/nr7J8Ly/Anton-Agravaine-2-Token.png[/img][/url] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5583221][img]https://i.ibb.co/6PRDkVZ/Sylrael-Token.png[/img][/url] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5583221][img]https://i.ibb.co/k1kVKRp/Melodia-Token.png[/img][/url][/center]
[h3][color=gray]Outskirts of Odenfield[/color][/h3]
[@Estylwen] [@ERode]
[hr]

It had been a few days since their meeting in town. With grace, the day of the meeting with the Duke's emissary had good weather. The meeting place in the outskirts wasn't too far, but Anton had donned armour and helmet and brought Bristelle II out of the stables. Though she normally wore horse barding with the heraldic wolf and royal blue of Marceilles, their sojourn in Arrowfell called for Bristelle to wear half-plate with plain blue trappings. The saddlebags she bore as well carried light provisions and the chest of Seeds they were bringing.

Sylrael and Melodia accompanied Anton on foot, needing no horse as they preferred lighter armour. Sylrael had strapped his leather armour-pads over his outfit and strung his bow, while Melodia had simply opted for a warm dull-red cloak.

[b]'Do you think His Grace received your letter, captain?'[/b] Sylrael suddenly wondered aloud. 
Anton snickered in his helmet. [color=0072bc]'A little late to be worrying about that,'[/color] he replied, [color=0072bc]'Even if he hasn't, look on the bright side: it's a nice day, Bristelle II gets some fresh air, and we'll have a box of Seeds that I honestly won't know what to do with.'[/color]
Melodia chuckled and then shared her thought. [b]'Share it with the boys and we'll storm Hathforth on our own.'[/b]
[b]'You're insane, Melodia,'[/b] Sylrael commented snarkily, but after a pause he then turned to Anton, [b]'... Do you think that would actually work?'[/b]
Anton laughed. [color=0072bc]'Most unlikely, but I think it would be monumentally funny and a cruel irony if we succeeded.'[/color]

[color=0072bc][i]Imagine: the queen who used mercenaries to usurp the throne, overthrown by a rag-tag band of some other mercenaries.[/i][/color] Anton wore a stupid grin thinking about it.

A little while later, they approached the plantation where the meeting was to take place. Anton found strange comfort in seeing the living doll and her darkly companion standing by the road in the tobacco fields. It was almost picturesque in a way, with the tobacco leaves whispering in the light breeze. 

[color=0072bc]'Miss Evoek,'[/color] Anton called through his helmet as they neared, [color=0072bc]'It wounds my pride somewhat that you are both more punctual than I!'[/color]