Delores surfaced from a restless sleep, the hard stone floor offering little comfort after the relative luxury of her Guild cot. Dreams had flickered at the edges of her consciousness. Dreams of fragmented images of falling, of angry, disappointed faces, of melodies twisting into discordant noise. She blinked, disoriented, the unfamiliar scent of damp stone and woodsmoke filling her senses.
A heavy boot nudged her shoulder, none too gently. "Oy. Sun's climbin', musician. Time to move."
Delores groaned, pushing herself upright. Barin Strongsunder stood over her, already fully armored, his scarred face impassive in the pale morning light filtering through the gaps in the guard shack's ruined roof. He'd clearly been awake for some time, likely standing watch. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, feeling stiff and decidedly unadventurous. Her vibrant red hair, usually kept in neat braids, felt like a tangled bird's nest around her face.
"Alright, alright, I'm up," she mumbled, stifling a yawn. She glanced down at her traveling dress that was practical, sturdy fabric, but currently rumpled, stained with forest grime from the previous day's trek, and likely smelling faintly of terrified gnome. Not exactly the image of a resourceful individual Oleg might be expecting.
Barin watched, arms crossed, as she stretched, wincing slightly. "Need a moment?" he asked, his tone gruff but not unkind.
"Just one," Delores replied. She took a deep breath, centering herself. Again, she reached for that inner spark, the wellspring of sorcery she was still learning to fully command. This time, it wasn't for defense or probing minds, but for simple convenience.
She focused, picturing herself as she should look. With a soft murmur under her breath, she channeled a small, precise burst of arcane energy. A faint shimmer enveloped her for a split second. The unruly tangle of her red hair seemed to weave itself back into two neat, practical braids. Simultaneously, the dust and grime clinging to her dress lifted away as if blown by an invisible wind, leaving the fabric clean and smooth once more. She even felt the stiffness ease from her muscles.
Barin's eyes widened, his jaw slackening slightly for the second time since meeting her. He stared, blinking, as if unsure he'd seen correctly. "Did ye just… magic yer hair straight?"
Delores smoothed down her now-clean dress with a satisfied nod. "And dusted myself off. Much quicker than finding a stream."
She looked up at him, catching his expression. In the clear morning light, she saw him properly taking in her attire for the first time. It wasn't a flimsy concert gown or simple traveling clothes. The dress, though appearing elegant at first glance, was made of reinforced, layered fabric, subtly designed for ease of movement. Beneath the outer layer, faint outlines hinted at strategically placed padding or perhaps even light armor plating woven within. It was, Barin clearly now recognized, a form of battle dress, albeit one designed with a gnome's flair.
"That ain't no ordinary frock," Barin observed slowly, his gaze lingering on the reinforced stitching at the shoulders. "Looks tougher than half the leather jerkins I've seen."
Delores gave a wry smile, gathering her satchel and checking the strapping on her hurdy-gurdy. "My parents insisted," she explained as they stepped out of the dilapidated shack into the bright morning. They extinguished the small fire and started back towards the road. "General Jerome Aldane Pixieheart and Admiral Mary Deanne Pixieheart," she added, the grand titles sounding slightly absurd coming from her small frame.
Barin let out a low whistle. "General and Admiral? Blazin' hells, lass. Yer folks are the top brass at Arcintor Garrison, ain't they?"
"The very same," Delores confirmed, kicking a loose stone off the path. "They weren't exactly thrilled with my choice of profession. Music and magic," she gestured vaguely, "aren't considered… proper pursuits for a Pixieheart." She sighed. "But they raised me to be prepared. Always. Taught me strategy before sums, shield stances before sewing."
She adjusted the hurdy-gurdy on her back. "They might not understand my path, but they drilled one lesson into me from the moment I could walk: this is a massive world, full of dangers far bigger than I am. Being a gnome, even one with… certain advantages," she patted the pouch with her focusing stone, "doesn't make you immune to a bandit's knife or a beast's claws. You always have to be ready, even when dressed for a recital."
Barin nodded slowly, a newfound understanding dawning in his eyes. The small, seemingly naive musician was the daughter of two of the most formidable military figures in the region, raised with a practicality that belied her chosen craft. It explained her odd mix of Guild refinement and unexpected resilience.
"Prepared, eh?" Barin grunted, glancing at her again, this time with clear respect. "Reckon yer folks taught ye well, even if ye didn't follow their orders." He offered a rare, genuine smile, showing his tusks. "Good thinkin'. Makes guardin' ye feel a bit less like babysittin' a lost lamb."
Delores laughed, the sound clear and bright in the morning air. "Glad to hear it, Barin. Now, onward to Oleg's."
Their second day of travel eastward along the Sunrise Road unfolded with a comfortable rhythm. The path remained wide and well-maintained, and the presence of other travelers, though infrequent, eased the lingering tension from the previous night. They passed a pair of grim-faced guards clad in the same blue and grey livery as those in Cerindor, heading west on patrol; the guards offered Barin a curt nod of recognition, their eyes flicking curiously over Delores and her large instrument before moving on. Later, a slow-moving merchant caravan rumbled past, its guards eyeing Barin's formidable armor and falchion with wary respect.
Delores, feeling more secure with Barin's imposing presence beside her, took the opportunity to study the regional map Faelar had provided. According to the markings, a distinctively shaped ridge line, a winding river glimpsed through the trees, they were making good time.
"If we keep this pace," Delores mused aloud, tracing their route with a finger, "we should reach the crossroads by midday tomorrow. From there, it's south-east for another day to reach Oleg's homestead."
Barin grunted affirmatively, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, scanning the treeline with habitual vigilance.
Seeing him focused solely on potential threats reminded Delores of her thought from the night before. An idea, perhaps foolhardy but persistent, began to take shape. She waited until they paused for a brief rest beside a clear, bubbling stream, pulling out hardtack and dried fruit from their packs.
"Barin," she began casually, unfolding the map again. "Since we're traveling together, it might be useful if you could… well, get a complete sense of where we are too. Just in case we get separated, or if I need help navigating."
Barin eyed the map suspiciously, like it might bite him. "Told ye, lass. Squiggles and lines ain't my strong suit."
"I know, I know," Delores said patiently. "But it's not just squiggles. See this thick line here?" She pointed to the Sunrise Road. "That's the road we're on. And this cluster of marks," she indicated Cerindor, "that's where we started." She then traced their eastward path. "And these wavy lines here, that's the Serpent River we just crossed back there."
She kept her tone light, conversational, like she was simply sharing information. "Maps are just pictures, really. Pictures of the land from way up high. This symbol usually means a town, this one a forest, this one mountains…"
Barin listened, his expression dubious, but he didn't immediately dismiss her. He leaned closer, peering at the symbols she indicated. "So… that bumpy bit there," he pointed a thick finger towards the Morindel range depicted to the north, "that's the mountains?"
"Exactly!" Delores beamed, encouraged. "And the road splits here," she pointed to the upcoming crossroads, "and Faelar said Oleg's is east, so we'd follow this thinner line that way."
For the next few hours, as they walked, Delores continued her impromptu lesson. She pointed out landmarks and showed Barin how they corresponded to symbols on the map. She explained scales, directions indicated by the compass rose Faelar had crudely drawn in the corner, and the different ways terrain was represented. It was slow going. Barin grasped the concept of matching major landmarks like mountains, rivers, the road itself, but the finer details, the symbols for smaller villages or different types of woodland, seemed to blur together for him.
He'd trace a line correctly one minute, then get completely turned around the next, often resorting to frustrated grunts. Delores tried different approaches, comparing the map to stories or battle plans, but literacy wasn't just about recognizing shapes; it was about understanding abstract representation, a skill Barin's life hadn't required him to develop. Still, she persisted, driven by a stubborn belief that she could teach him, that this visual language could eventually bridge the gap to reading actual words. After nearly three hours of this, with Delores patiently explaining contour lines for the fifth time and Barin looking increasingly frazzled, his brow furrowed in concentration that seemed more painful than productive, he suddenly stopped. He reached into his travel pouch, rummaged around for a moment, and then thrust a long, dark strip of dried meat directly under Delores's nose.
"Here," he grunted, his voice rougher than usual. "Eat somethin'. Keep yer strength up."
Delores blinked, startled by the sudden offering and the pungent, smoky smell of the jerky. "Oh, uh, thank you, Barin, but I'm quite alright—"
"Nah, ye look peaky," he insisted gruffly, practically shoving the jerky into her hand. "Been talkin' nonstop 'bout lines and dots. Need fuel. Important." He avoided her eyes, already turning to scan the woods again, clearly using the jerky as a desperate means to end the map lesson.
Delores looked at the jerky, then at Barin's retreating back, and suppressed a smile. Progress was slow, perhaps, but she'd take the small victory. At least he hadn't told her to stuff the map somewhere unpleasant. She tucked the jerky away for later and refolded the map, deciding to give her reluctant student a break. As late afternoon began to bleed into evening, the character of the land shifted again. The trees grew denser, taller, and the rolling hills gave way to more rugged terrain. Barin sniffed the air, his posture subtly changing.
"We're gettin' closer to the dwarven holds north o' here," he announced. "Stonebeard Kingdom's influence reaches this far south. Generally safer territory. Bandits tend to steer clear cause dwarves don't take kindly to road agents near their borders."
He scanned the area, then pointed off the road towards a cluster of large, weathered boulders nestled beneath a thick canopy of ancient pines. "Good spot as any to make camp. Sheltered, defensible, and close enough to dwarven lands that serious trouble's unlikely tonight."
Delores readily agreed. The thought of sleeping near potentially friendly territory, even indirectly, was comforting after the previous night. They made their way off the road, Barin easily clearing a small space amongst the boulders while Delores gathered tinder. This time, Barin watched with open curiosity as she coaxed a flame to life with her sorcery, shaking his head slightly but saying nothing. They shared a simple meal of hardtack, cheese, and the jerky Barin had offered earlier. The half-orc dwarf seemed more relaxed now that the map lesson was over, even offering a few terse stories about his patrol duties, mostly involving chasing off wolves or dealing with drunken travelers. Delores listened, occasionally adding a comment or asking a question, the unlikely pair finding a tentative rhythm in the quiet companionship.
As the fire crackled low and the stars emerged, bright and clear in the gap between the pines overhead, Delores felt a sense of quiet accomplishment. It wasn't the grand adventure she might have dreamed of back at the Guild, but it was real. She had faced danger, made an ally, and was steadily making her way towards an unknown future. And maybe, just maybe, she could teach a stubborn half-orc dwarf to read along the way.