With a weary sigh, the imperial soldier sat down at a table in Lydix bar. His hands laden with two byrhs, his comrade soon joined him and dropped to his chair, which protested with a dull crack.
"I'm getting rather tired! Two days that we walk, that we trample, from morning to evening...
- And you thought that "guard assigned to the security of the alchemists" would be a restful experience!
- I'm sure we have gone to all the Desert shops to try to find his damn thing! He's twice my age and I can barely keep up with him."
The two fyros took a sip of the beer imported from Lakes.
"And we're not done. Tomorrow he wants to go to the Trykers land.
- Sure, he's going to drag us through all the New Lands until he finds a Kizarak's claw.
- ramèch!"
As they continued to drink and sigh, one of the soldiers thought.
"I may have a way to spare us all this.
- I'm in! Well, as long as we don't have to go and get the claw on a live kizarak, eh?
- Do you remember my cousin, Iorian?
- The one who got kicked out of the guard of Thesos?
- Yes. She left the Burning Desert, she... changed her life." The Fyros lowered his voice a little. "She joined the Smuggler's tribe, in the Lakes. They really sell all, these people there; they probably have whole bags of kizarak pieces.
- And you think Ichnion would buy his stuff from smugglers?"
The soldier shrugged his shoulders.
"If he gets what he wants, I don't see him looking too much at where it comes from. We can try suggesting he goes and visits the Smugglers."
His comrade grumbled.
"We'll have to go to the Lakes now!
- You'd rather walk all over Atys?"
With a deep sigh, the soldier plunged back into his drink.
"We'll have to go to Fairhaven to bring back some byrh from the Lakes that wouldn't have traveled by mektoubs in the blazing sun."
At a nearby table, a pair of ears hadn't miss a single bit of the two soldiers' conversation. The announced arrival of an imperial alchemist, escorted only by two guards in a wild and uncertain region, was valuable information for anyone who could take advantage of it.
~ ~ ~
With his armor ripped, as pale as a matis, Praesidius was watching the spawn's point of Pyr as if, by an effort of will, he could make Ichnion, the imperial Alchemist he had to protect, appear there, but nothing happened.
"Like rookies, we were fooled like rookies, and now we'll have to go and announce that we've lost the trace of the Alchemist...
- ...
- We're going to end up scrubbing latrines for the rest of our lives ...
- No wait, we'll find a way, we'll call on our relations, the Patriots won't want to let the reputation of the guards be tarnished. Let's gather our friends and trusted homins and find Ichnion. We have a few days before his absence becomes critical."
Little by little, the news spread among the Patriots: Rendezvous at Academy place on Holeth, Floris 24, 2e CA 2611 (*).
* (OOC) On Sunday, December 6th, 20:00 UTC.