>>5414317>Talk to Giordano>What are the greatest concerns of this village? Any local custom or taboo I should know of?Giordano considers the question about concerns, swishing ale about his flagon.
“We’ve the same concerns here as anywhere,” he settles on. “People want satisfying work and good drink. They want warm houses and rooves that don’t leak, and their children to reach adulthood. We want to please Our Lady and show our thanks and help Her Suffering. You’re probably thinking we’re always in fear of the things that come out of the Heap or come into the valley, but you foreigners learn soon enough that’s just what life here is like. ‘Course they cause us bother, but then it’s your station to deal with it.”
“It’s not all as imminently terrible as the tales tell, Sir Carouliti” adds René, nodding. The boy looks at you knowingly: of the same western persuasion as yourself, he’s no doubt heard the same accounts of the Charnel Lands that make it sound as if there is some awful monster or curse behind every stone and tree. “You witness things that are quite upsetting, especially this deep into the old country, but it is not as if we are under siege at every moment.”
“Don’t let your guard down though,” Giordano grunts into his mug. “The valley’s finely tamed and cultivated, but once you’re within the Heap, you’ve only the Goddess at your side. And this close to it, the shadows aren’t always safe: <span class="mu-i">don’t go wondering the woods by yourself</span>, especially not at night. Folks all make sure they’re back in the village by sundown, and they see and hear things over the wall. You come walking out of the woods in the dark or first thing in the morning… they’re liable to think it might not actually be <span class="mu-i">you.</span>”
>>5412307>>5412444>>5416396>>5418257>>5412349>Retire to the householdGiordano’s warnings fresh in your mind and the last of the sour ale drained from your cup, you bid him and René well and excuse yourself. The reeve raises his mug to you once more and says that he hopes he’ll see you regularly, while René bows again and wishes Her Mercy on you. The villagers in the pub part for you, and there is another round of polite nods and awkward bows as you leave the public house.
Night is truly setting in now: the peach sky has darkened to star dotted sanguine and the chill valley air bears a sharp bite. It is rather refreshing after the stuffy heat of the cabin, even if it does hurt your face. While your conversation with Giordano had run its course, in truth you can feel the all too familiar fog of drunkenness setting in and removing yourself from the public house seemed the most sensible recourse. As you spent most of the day riding you have not eaten well, and now the unfamiliar brew swills uncomfortably in your empty stomach. The cold air sharpens your focus, helping you find your way through the cramped village and to the household.
