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- Well, what can you do now... - Veserod nodded sympathetically. - You can't undo what's been done. Although, I heard there's some talk among the locals... I haven't been in your situation, so I don't know...
Beyond the window stretched the endless plains of Nakiri. Traveling in that direction before, Gulveig hadn't been able to fully appreciate the scenery due to the frantic race they had to undertake. The return route was well-known and planned, so they traveled relatively calmly. Yet, the sunny landscape outside, the spring in full bloom, didn't match the girl's mood at all, and therefore didn't resonate with her. What she really needed was the strong howling of the wind whistling through the cracks in the carriage.
The closer it got to May 1st, the more another fact tormented the girl: her father's birthday was coming up soon, and he would have to spend it away from his family, and the event was clearly overshadowed by the recent and extremely upsetting parting with his adopted son. Nevertheless, the girl managed to acquire a bottle of local arak at the market a little in advance. On the day of the holiday, though not in the morning, she took it out and gave it to Gungnir.
"I understand that the timing is... not ideal. But it's not every day that you can get something like this, is it? Happy birthday, Father Gungnir. I'm sorry that I have to celebrate it while we're on the road. And once again... thank you for everything," she tried to smile as she said the last sentence, but didn't quite succeed. "Days pass, the world around us changes, and we change too. I hope that all of this will always be for the better."
"If not now, then at least in the future."
(If anything, it's implied that they won't drink it now, but that Gung can save it for later. But, of course, it's up to him; it's his gift.)
Rohei observes the visitors in the restaurant for a while; if nothing noteworthy happens, he goes to the relaxation area.
In the relaxation area, Rohei observes something like this:
Among the relatively small number of visitors, a well-dressed elf and, judging by his appearance, an Illian aristocrat catch the shinobi's eye. They were talking very animatedly about something, but to hear what exactly, he would have to get closer.
Beyond the window lay the endless plains of Nakiri. Traveling in that direction, Gulveig hadn't been able to fully appreciate the scenery due to the frantic race they had been forced to undertake. The return route was well-known and planned, so they traveled relatively calmly. Nevertheless, the sunny landscape outside, the spring in full bloom, did not match the girl's mood at all, and therefore did not resonate with her. What would suit her now was the strong howling of the wind through the cracks in the carriage. The closer it got to May 1st, the more another fact tormented the girl: her father's birthday was coming up soon, and he would have to spend it not with his family, and the event was clearly spoiled by the recent and extremely upsetting parting with her adopted brother. However, the girl managed to acquire a bottle of local arak at the market a little in advance. On the holiday itself, but not in the morning, she took it out and gave it to Gungnir. “I understand that the time is… But you can't get something like this every day, right? Happy birthday, Father Gungnir. I'm sorry that I have to celebrate it on the road. And once again… Thank you for everything,” she tried to smile as she said the last sentence, but didn't quite succeed. “Days go by, the world around us changes, and we change too. I wish that all of this will always be for the better.” “If not now, then at least in the future.”
The bottle of alcohol, bought from a local merchant, cost Gulveig 10 seliks. Gungnir was not one to attach particular sentimental importance to his birthday, but he accepted the gesture of his ward and immediately poured some for himself and for her. “Have you ever been interested in history? Do you know anything about the king?”
In the recreation area, Ryohei observes something like this:
Among the relatively small number of visitors, a well-dressed elf and, judging by his appearance, an Illian aristocrat stand out. They are engaged in a very animated conversation, but to hear what they are talking about, one would have to approach closer.
Ryohei cautiously passes by within earshot of the conversation, pretending to be fascinated by the movements of a dancing girl.
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Ple-Sen
