“Almost everthin’ here’s just homes and farmland.”
Cael grunts softly as he secures their little blue boat to the wharf of Lock 38. The rope squeaks slightly as it’s tightened, some combination of freezing damp and brittle ice protesting the out of season treatment.
They all ignore it.
Instead, they focus on getting out of the boat safely. Cael goes first, of course, as he talks; the ore now a cane as he uses it to stabilize himself and then his company until they’re all on stable ground. Manus is the second out, having taken the Boathand’s hand while Jarl was too busy assessing their surroundings and Áesta on the far/wrong side. He flirts with the younger man as he plants his feet, drawing a laugh out of him and eyerolls from the rest of them. Then Áesta’s pulled out—surprisingly not flirting or attempting a meal—a bit literally; and this is what breaks Jarl from his assessment: the shock of Cael literally picking the daemon up.
And Áesta giggling.
Manus laughs and claps, delighted by Cael’s display of strength; but the man just shrugs it off as normal: being a boathand is no weakling’s task, after all; “It’s your priest, here, being all buff that’s the real shock!”
(Jarl almost helped himself out after that, face red and mildly embarrassed; “I was a carpenter!”)
~
“The only thing that isn’t either is the cemetery,” Cael continues, “And Ol’ Gina.”
They’ve gotten their bags out of the boat, at this point, and are making their way down the beaten path. Surprisingly, the walk from Lock 38 to aforementioned homes and farmland is about one hundred meters—twice as long as Lock 35’s path to Bailenac’ringy—and doesn’t actually take them to all that much: Castlegodry isn’t a cradle of civilization so much as a hammock of homes.
In fact, the first thing they see is a house on a T.
“Are you saying Gina doesn’t actually live here?” Jarl questions, confused and a bit put-off. Before them stands a two story house, white everywhere but the gray roof, with a swooping driveway and two chimneys. The driveway is made of slabs of stone and the backyard is gigantic with a large fountain and children’s toys. Huge bay windows stare at them from the sunroom facing the Lock’s path while everything else faces east.
There’s even a wooden back porch.
Jarl isn’t entirely sure what expected when they sailed out here but this definitely wasn’t it. It’s so… posh. And rich. Is this really where the Wet Wagon’s receptionist’s grandmother lives???
“O, no,” Cael explains, “She does; she just also works here.”
Of course.
~
The scenery changes only a little as they make their way down the right side of the T (due east).
They pass by the farm of whoever lives in that house, implying the port in their goods to Bailenac’ringy through the canal system. An old barn greets them after that; it’s big and red and has seen better days. Farther along, things begin looking a lot like their trek to Lock 35: nothing but greenery buried in white.
Among that white, however, is a different kind.
“Baaaaa!”
~
“SHEEP!!!”
Jarl and Cael blink as Áesta’s suddenly not beside them but launching himself over a rickety wooden fence. Manus laughs, having already expected this to happen, and affectionately explains: “They’re cuddly to him.”
“Ah…”
The three of them watch with varying levels of amusement as the little daemon in disguise hugs a sheep and snuggles its wool. The creature seems not to mind, staying where it is and calmly sniffing the hidden devil. The other sheep are equally unperturbed as they either continue eating dry grass and snow or join Áesta.
“These’re Bessy’s sheep,” Cael informs as they wait for the fiend to return; “Bunch of sweet things.”
“Isn’t it too cold for them to be out?” Jarl questions, eyeing the amount of icicles on their wool. There’s a lot; but since Áesta’s a daemon and able to go swimming in freezing lakes, he’s not that worried about him. Those sheep, though…
“Nah; remember: half tha reason we humans take their wool’s ‘cause o’ how good it is at insolatin’.”
“… Fair point.”
~
It takes a few minutes (and a shout or two from a slightly impatient Jarl), but eventually Áesta returns.
He’s grinning from ear to ear, excitement creating the illusion of sharper teeth (although Cael doesn’t notice), and covered in ice, snow, and even bits of wool. He looks cold and Cael fusses over him for a moment; but both Manus and Jarl know he’ll be fine (the joys [?] of knowing the truth, the priest supposes).
Still, to calm Cael (and try to prevent such a delay from happening
again), Jarl wraps an arm around Áesta and traps holds him against his
side to (pretend to) warm him up.
Áesta doesn’t stop grinning.
~
They pass by several gated dirt driveways (a huge deviance from the first house they saw) shrouded by trees; then, they walk by a gravel parking lot with a two-story building and two metal-sheet sheds.
“We’re getting close,” Cael informs them, not telling them what the place actually is.
A long bungalow home is next: it’s white with a red roof, a combination of red wood and white stone fences, charming muntinless windows with curtains obscuring their view, and a simplistic garden in the front.
It reminds Jarl of home—and the reason he isn’t there right now.
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