The cart sits crooked in the rut, one wheel sunk deep, its axle split clean. Frieda nears from the castle road as Elias straightens, grease black on his palms and hope on his face.
Elias
My lady, if you have a moment, this road has taken me by the throat. The wheel will not budge.
Behind him, a hooded peddler pauses beside a pack mule, watching the broken cart with cautious interest. Father Heimdal and Sir Karl remain by the gate in the distance, small against the trees.
The Peddler
A snapped axle, then. Bad luck, or worse roadwork. If you mean to pass, we all wait on that timber.
Frieda
The rut is deep, and the axle is split near the hub.
Elias wipes his brow again and nods toward the wheel, trying not to sound desperate.
Elias
If you know a prayer for stubborn wood, I will take it. If you know a stronger hand, I will take that too.
✓ Quest Accepted
Help Elias repair the cart
“"I fear my prayers would not be strong enough to repair a broken axle, but can at least help you out of the rut. Perhaps this peddlar has some tools that would be useful in fixing the cart."”
SUCCESS (Good Strength, rolled +0)
Frieda throws her weight into the cart rail, and Elias braces beside her. The wheel bumps free of the rut with a harsh wooden groan, then rolls onto firmer ground.
The axle still hangs wounded, but the cart stands level enough to move. Mud drops from the spokes, and the road opens a handspan wider ahead.
Elias
Saints be praised. That is better than I dared hope.
The Peddler
A stout shove, lady, and a stout road. Though this axle may yet need more than prayers.
Elias looks past Frieda toward the lane, then lowers his voice as if the trees might listen.
Elias
I saw armed men ahead, four or five, heading toward Waldenhof. Not merchants. Not by their arms.
The peddler’s grip tightens on the mule’s reins. Elias waits, breath held, for Frieda to choose whether the road goes on now or whether the cart keeps her here a little longer.
“"If you can push the cart up to the castle, you can ask the smith there to repair it. I fear I must return to my duties."”
SUCCESS (Mediocre Diplomacy, rolled +0)
Frieda
If you can push the cart up to the castle, the smith there can repair it. I must return to my duties.
Elias
Up to the castle, then? Aye. That is kinder than leaving me to curse the wheel in the mud.
Elias gives a short, grateful nod and looks toward the gate. The peddler watches in silence, reins gathered close, as if weighing the road against the warning he has heard.
The Peddler
A smith can mend iron, if the castle still has one worth trusting. And if your road matters, lady, you should take it while the light holds.
Elias grips the cart rail, readying himself to turn back with it. Frieda’s staff rests steady in her hand, the castle wall behind her and the lane before her split between duty and delay.
Elias
I will manage the cart. You go, chaplain. If those men are truly bound for Waldenhof, they should not have your blessing waiting for them.
The words hang between them. The road ahead stays open, but now it feels watched, and Elias remains at the gate with his broken burden.
“"Farewell then. I will be vigilant."”
SUCCESS (Good Willpower, rolled +1)
Frieda
Farewell, then. I will be vigilant.
Frieda turns from the gate, staff firm in her hand, and takes the road with her head angled to every sound beyond the wall.
Elias lifts his chin in answer, but the peddler’s gaze sharpens on the lane ahead, as if he is measuring who else might be moving under the trees.
The Peddler
Then keep your eyes open, chaplain. Men with steel do not always announce themselves twice.
The warning settles over the courtyard. Elias tightens both hands on the cart rail, and the mule flicks its ears toward the road.
Frieda reaches the edge of the lane, and in the hard light the track toward Waldenhof feels less like a path than a choice already waiting for her.
“Feeling a bit nervous, Frieda sings a cheerful hunting song to boost her courage and alert any waiting bandits that she is not afraid of them.”
SUCCESS (Good Willpower, rolled +4)
Frieda lets the song rise light and steady over the roadside, clear enough to carry past the wall and into the trees. The tune is brisk, a hunter’s boast trimmed into courage, and it keeps her own breathing even as she walks.
Elias looks up from the cart, then away toward the lane, listening with new attention. The peddler stills at once, as if the sound has given shape to the danger he was already imagining.
The Peddler
A bold voice on a lonely road is either foolish or wise.
Frieda’s boots strike the hard earth in time with the melody. The staff Sir Karl gave her taps once at her side, and the road ahead no longer feels silent.
Elias
You sing like one who means to keep going. Then hear me plain, chaplain, armed men were on the Waldenhof road not long past.
His warning lands while the last note fades. The cart, the mule, and the watchful peddler all seem to hold their breath around Frieda, waiting for her choice.
“"What kind of armed men?"”
SUCCESS (Good Reasoning, rolled +1)
Elias wipes both hands on his rag and turns fully to Frieda, his voice dropping as if the road itself might listen.
Elias
Not raiders in a rabble, chaplain. Six men, near enough. Armed, mounted, and moving hard toward Waldenhof.
He jerks his chin toward the lane, then toward the castle wall, measuring the distance with a worried eye.
Elias
One wore a red scarf at the throat. Another had a long spear, like a guard's. They did not look lost.
The peddler’s hood tilts a fraction, intent sharpening, while the mule stamps once beside the leveled cart.
The Peddler
That is no shepherd's company, then. That is a message, or a claim.
Elias lowers his rag and meets Frieda’s eyes, plain worry edged with respect.
Elias
If you mean to reach the village before them, take the road now. If not, I can only pray they pass you by.
“"Thanks. I'll see if I can get there before they do."”
SUCCESS (Good Agility, rolled -1)