The watchman nods and turns back to face the treeline, grunting in dismissal.
Ashton's face briefly shows...disappointment? Before she can consider, he's back to his old, respectful self. "I beg your pardon, mother. I was walking past your servant as he was repacking the carriage. He was putting in a bottle of Chateu Laval '68, a terrible vintage from a few years back. I was wondering if you'd prefer some superior wine, from grandfather's own stock?" He holds up an elegant bottle of dark red wine.
It shocked Ard a little how complacent and "at-home" he had become in the world of the lesser elves and humans, when he was still with his troop they were little more than cattle to him, the strongest and most promising dragged off as slaves. Drawn out of his reminiscing by Estelle, Ard's cock grew, the large bulge tenting his pants and feeling hot against the girl's hand. Decades ago, before he had been stranded here, a Human child like her would've left him cold. He had to chuckled, speaking to Abigail, 'Are you... nearly done? She is getting quite amorous here.'[Thanks]
Abigail quietly gets to work bandaging the young woman up, as Ard ponders what he saw. It strikes him, the feeling of seeing his comrades again, their armour all similar, but still distinct in their own subtle ways. He can't help but contemplate what it was like, feeling like a victim of the Hunt, when he'd been on the other side so many times, riding down others, instead of being ridden down himself. Before he can think too much on the subject, however, Ard feels his cock grow hard, as Estelle slides her hand over his length. With a giggle, she begins to stroke it through his pants, knocking the former huntsman out of his thoughts.
Madeline chuckles. "Yes, I'm sure you can 'handle' it." Leading him through the streets, the pair quickly arrive at a bookstore. Striding up confidently to the counter, Madeline orders "The book I ordered, bring it here, please." The woman behind the counter nods and heads into the stock room, coming back out with a massive leather bound tome, dark brown in colour, with strange hieroglyphics along the side, and an inscription of a skull on the front. "Alright, time to do your job, Varrin. You'll carry the book for me." The nobleman doesn't anticipate the task, seeing as the book looks rather heavy.
Trista take the key nodding to woman and head upstairs to the door of bookworm. She knock in the wooden door.
Abigail nods, with a slight smirk, as she ties up the bandage. The witcher walks over to get a look at what Ard is talking about, since she was standing behind him, by the door. She chuckles, saying "I don't think your 'little friend' down there minds." With one last knot, Abigail ties the bandage firmly. "Alright, all done."
Ahston gulps and flinches at his mother's glare. "I-I... Grandfather gave it to me. H-He's been teaching me about wine, about which vintages are best for impressing business partners."
'Certainly,' Ard chuckled, 'But the girl is not really aware what she is doing in her state. I have no intention of exploiting her predicament.' When Abigail was done, Ard removed his hand from Estelle's chest and stepped back away from the table, his bulge still prominent but out of Estelle's reach. He looked to the herbalist, 'Thank you, what do we owe you for your work? I would also like to have word with you in private, if you would allow.'
Varrin rolled his eyes as he realized what his sister was insinuating, but said nothing and followed behind her.
The door opens a sliver, and Trista sees a slight glimpse of dark hair above a youthful face. "Y-Yes?"
Not trying to push his luck, Ashton nods. "Very well, enjoy, mother." Quickly, he scurries away. As the wagons are loaded up with supplies, and the convoy prepares to get going again, Castor heads to get into the driver's seat. Before he does, he looks at Miriella through the window admiringly. "Seems like we're heading off, ma'am. Would you like anything before we start moving again?"
The witcher chuckles. "I know, you seem a good enough sort." With a whine of disappointment, Estelle is held back by her guardian, stopping her from continuing to grope Ard. Abigail shakes her head. "No, you don't owe me. Fixing her up didn't cost anything but the dust, and that's easy to make, so it wouldn't be right to charge you." She tilts her head in confusion as he makes his request. "I suppose we can talk, sure." Given that the hut is one room, Abigail leads Ard outside to talk. "Err, what do you need?"
Trista put hands on her belt and enter room, letting Prokop close the door and showing her medalion.The door opens a sliver, and Trista sees a slight glimpse of dark hair above a youthful face. "Y-Yes?"
With a fearful look, a young man examines Trista. A female voice sounds from behind the man. "Hey, Prokop, let her in!" The young man nods, and slowly opens the door. Behind a desk sits a young blonde woman.
"How can we help, witcher?"
Ard stepped outside with Abigail, looking at the fire-haired woman, 'To be frank, I am on a quest. I am looking for beings more ancient and... knowledgeable than dh'oine sorcerers and scholars. I have heard rumours and some local legends but nothing too concrete. The moment I touched your hand, I saw something. A vision of sorts. Tell me, do you celebrate Saovine? Massive bonfires, dancing and revelry?'
The coachman quickly fetches a glass, before heading up front to get the carriage moving. Drinking freely of the wine, Mirellia finds that her son hadn't lied. It's a delicious and fragrant vintage that seems to warm her body with every sip, not alcoholic enough to make her drunk, but leaving her pleasantly loose and relaxed. Every sip leads to several more, and it isn't long before the entire bottle is finished, leaving her feel a little sad that there isn't any more. As she relaxes, certain ideas and fantasies hover about the milf's mind.
