Settling In (Solo)

[Ylva]

The trip had been a long one. Over a week of travel it had taken for the Snolinjaal to arrive in Lycia, and Ylva had plenty of time to soak up the differences. Lycia was...greener than Ilia. A lot less white. It's forests were almost vibrant with how green they were by comparison. It was also warmer with clearer skies on average.

Aside from the heat being a touch too much at times, Ylva enjoyed the change of scenery. The different sounds and smells of Lycia's forests intrigued her. When they camped outside for the nights it was a wonder to not need a constant fire and numerous wolf or bear pelts to survive the night. Ylva could actually relax and gaze at the stars, enjoy the chirping of the crickets and the crackle of a much smaller flame.

However, the Snolinjaal did not long for camping beneath the forests. Back in Ilia they had a large fort hidden away near the Eastern mountains. They longed to have another and Yngvar would provide. It took some searching, both through the villages for rumors and the forests for sights. Ylva mostly stuck to searching the forests, never left to her own either. She'd only been to Lycia on a few missions and never really got the chance to get a feel for the land. Yngvar feared she'd wind up lost or worse, and even if she was a full-fledged merc she was still the “Guild's Daughter” to him.

On some level, one that Ylva didn't pay much mind to, she appreciated that. On the surface level she rolled her eyes at the playful taunts and japes she earned as a result.

Still, her searching came to an end as they met in the “Gilded Blade” tavern. Ylva muscled her way through her fellow guild members and took a seat at a table, mug of ale in hand. The Snolinjaal were taking up the entire bottom right corner of the establishment, and were rowdy and loud at that, but none in the tavern were bothered or brave enough to say a word.

Yngvar himself was just about finished a drinking contest with his sister. As per usual she finished her mug before he could down his, and as per usual the Snolinjaal cheered and banged the tables while Siri basked in her victory. Ylva did not join in the cheering, she'd need more drinks for that, but she smirked and raised her mug as a congratulations.

“All right all right...settle down, ye lot.” Yngvar stated with a chuckle, waiting for the Snolinjaal to settle into their seats. Ordinarily their drunken cheer wasn't so easily quelled, but the Snolinjaal were all keen to hear what Yngvar had to say. The large warrior sat back in his chair, idly stroking his beard whilst grinning. “We've got good news today. There's an old fort nearby. It's big, but beaten down and-”

Once again the company broke out in cheer and rowdiness. Fists slammed tables and mugs clinked together. Ylva simply took a large swig. She, too, was happy that a new fort had been found.

“AND.” Yngvar nearly roared the word. He wasn't mad, just how it had to be. If one wanted to lead a group has rowdy as the Snolinjaal one would need to have a voice that carried. Ylva knew even from her scoldings by Yngvar and Siri as a child that both of them were capable of that. “Overtaken by brigands. Survivors of battles against Etruria who fled their armies and lords, poor men and women with nothing to their name.”

Yngvar grinned wide now. “D'ya think scum like them deserve a fort?”

“Nay!” Even Ylva chanted with her group. The company's fists banged against the tables in near perfect unison. This was not the first rallying speech they'd received, and by god Ylva hoped it would not be the last. If Yngvar's speeches could bring out the rowdiness in her then you knew they were damned good ones.

“D'ya think we ought to take it from them then?!”

“Aye!”

“Day after the morrow, then! Siri here snagged us a contract to clear 'em out anyway. We're not just claiming a new fort...we're getting paid for it! Tonight we drink 'till we drop! On the morrow, though, we ready ourselves to take us a new fort!”

Nothing was quieting the cheers that followed that. Nothing but the ale that every Snolinjaal downed. Ylva brought her mug to her lips, not caring how much she was gonna regret it the next morning.

[Ylva]

The following morning

Ylva's head was ringing the next morn, but she surely didn't regret the drinking. Granted it had been a touch jarring to wake up in the bed of a strapping brown haired man. Ylva stared at him as he snored away, sprawled out across the bed, her hair a mess and her eyes barely open. She couldn't quite remember meeting him, let alone going up to his room in the inn, but Ylva just smirked a bit at herself regardless. If any of the guild knew then she'd never hear the end of it.

Memories started to return. Her mystery man's name was Logan, and he'd been her first Lycian lay. Not terrible, from what she could recall, but that wasn't much to begin with. Hm, still, she wasn't really in the mood to stick around for the snoring Logan to wake up.

...Ah well. Ylva dressed herself swiftly, eager to get back to the tavern proper and regroup with the Snolinjaal. Planning happened today, and she could use some food and water to recover.

---

The day after

Ylva did indeed have to endure a few jokes, but she shrugged them off as more memories of the night returned. Turned out her man Logan had been rather disappointing, actually. Explained why she woke up hungover yet not at all refreshed in some way. The guild got a good laugh out of that before Yngvar quieted them for some planning.

“Remember the plan, lass.” Yngvar grumbled as he strode alongside Ylva, glancing down at the younger mercenary. Ylva met his gaze and gave him a single nod. Both were dressed in full gear, walking down a dirt road through the nearby forest.

The fort ought not to be far, judging by what Yngvar had stated. About two hours' walk east of the town, maybe an hour's ride on a good horse. Old dirt road would take 'em most of the way there but they'd have to run through the trees to actually reach the fort. It was built into the side of a small mountain, nothing but rock at it's back and trees at it's front. Well fortified and naturally protected.

Just what the Snolinjaal wanted.

Ylva drew out her water-skin and took a swig, keeping her eyes trained ahead of her. Seemed there was a caravan ahead, one of it's wheels on the ground beside it. There looked to be a man and woman inspecting the wheel and caravan proper as Ylva and Yngvar approached, gazing over as the mercenaries neared them.

“Oh, travelers!” The woman spoke first. Her hair was a brownish-blonde, fair skinned, and seemed to be dressed simply. Blue and white skirts, travelling boots, so forth. Perhaps the wife of a merchant, likely the man who still worked on the wheel.

“Aye, that we be.” Yngvar grunted as the woman approached them. “Having troubles with your caravan there?”

“Yes! Yes we are.” The woman gazed back at the man. Darker haired, darker skinned, likely spent a lot of time under the sun. He seemed about a decade older than her, but was dressed in equally simple clothes. A white shirt, sleeves rolled up, and black slacks. No weapons that Ylva could see, but he could have a knife hidden in his boot. “Please. M'husband's not so good with wheels and whatnot. He's a farmer, see? Better with crops and harvestin'.”

Strange. Any farmer worth their crops could handle most hands-on tasks. Maybe not caravan wheels, but wagon wheels and so forth. Ought to be no strangers to working with wood. Ylva kept this thought to herself, however, and glanced up at Yngvar. The bearded man hummed and nodded, giving Ylva the all right to speak.

“I've worked with wood before ma'am.” Ylva stated, stepping forward. “Could let your husband have a break, see if I can figure out what the problem is.” Ylva could see the woman's eyes practically light up, but she was quick to raise a hand. “But it'll cost you.”

“I-It will?”

“Can't be giving labour away for free. Not during these times.” Yngvar smirked just a touch, likely at how smoothly the words flowed from Ylva's lips.

The woman seemed a bit distraught now, gazing around before looking back at her husband. He looked at her and gave a grunt. “We've not much, and I'm ashamed to admit I need help, but we'll pay ye if ye can get this 'ere caravan movin' again.”

Seemed Ylva had a job then. She strode towards the caravan and began to inspect the wheel. “All right. We'll negotiate the pay as I work, but I won't be finishin' till we've settled.”

“Mhm. Work on that lass.” Yngvar stated, striding past the farmer's wife and giving Ylva a firm pat on the shoulder. “I'll be down the road. I stand around any longer I'll wind up pissin' meself.”

Ylva smirked faintly and nodded, studying the wheel and it's axle whilst Yngvar kept on walking.