Today I must acquire all necessary academic provisions: instruments, reference works, and all the paper I can keep dry. Finding sextants in this landlocked city is harder than I thought. Otherwise, obscene overpayment is solving all my provision problems.
Ican't buy good reference tomes on short notice. But I can check them out of the library and whistle innocently as I walk out the door...
The day ends with wagon loading. I use every synonym for "fragile" that I know, but you never know what'll happen once wheels hit the road.
It's two days by caravan to the coast. Slow way to travel, but a horse doesn't make me vomit the way a pegasus or a teleport does.
We have a military escort. Not exactly a color guard--I have more teeth than any three of them. And their horses are hide and bones. I strike up a conversation with the sergeant. It turns out that our "escort" is actually a bunch of teamsters, not actual soldiers. All the real soldiers are off at the Argon front, the sergeant explains. "But the appearance of soldiers may scare off bandits." Wait..."may?"
At least these guys know the road. Our first day passes without incident. Lots of quiet farmhouses and silent hamlets. Abandoned, perhaps?
Drinks around the evening fire. I listen as teamsters and diggers one-up each other with increasingly unlikely "worst job ever" stories.
Missed Elleon's previous journal entries? Read all of Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, and Day 4! Once you've caught up on the earlier journal entries, Day 7 has begun on the @Elleon_TERA Twitter page.
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