"How far is it to the cabin?" Marabir inquires, glancing at the sun which has begun to sink low above the trees.

"A few miles, perhaps?" Calvorn guesses.

"We shall have to hurry then," Marabir says, moving past the ranger to the head of the procession. "We do not have long until dusk."

Calvorn sighs, adjusting Erald once more before setting off after the prince.

The track through the forest is easy enough to follow, but not particularly well maintained, with various roots and branches obstructing the path, and at one point even a fallen tree. More than once Marabir offers a derogatory remark on rangers and it being their job to maintain forests for which they are paid by the crown. However, despite these obstacles, they eventually find themselves outside the decidedly forlorn building that is the ranger's cabin. It is a small, wooden building, partly covered in moss has dry leaves, and appears to be slightly lopsided due to a large oak nearby which over time has sent a large root beneath it.

"Well, here we are," murmurs Calvorn, placing Erald down as he peers out at the cabin from behind a large tree, motioning for the boy to remain quiet.

Marabir nods, his hand on the hilt of his blade as he advances warily toward the cabin.

Behind him, Tyronius motions for Caled and Larend to follow him as they draw their own blades, glancing warily about as they advance after Marabir.

Aerendir gives Caln his supply of turnips to mind along with instructions to climb that tree if he sees any wolves, and with that, Aerendir strides off after Marabir, whom he seems to agree needs the most bodyguarding.

Falnis seems to be eying off Caled's belt to see if now Aerendir's distracted is a good time or not to try acquiring a royal seal.

Caled's belt appears to be the least of anyone's concerns at present, as Calvorn draws his own blade, leaving Caln to protect Erald as he circles about the cabin, staying close to the trees.

Marabir reaches the cabin, taking a step up onto the porch outside before Caled places a hand on his shoulder.

"Allow me, Sire," he says curtly as he moves forward to give the door a firm kick and charges in.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 05:59, Mon 13 Mar 2023.

The others follow, only to find the place empty, save for a pair of field nice which scurry for one of the many cracks in the wall as they enter. The place itself appears not to have been used in some time. A noticeable layer of dust covers the bench and table, and the old soot from the hearth appears to have been blown across the floor. There are a good deal of rodent shaped prints in the dust, but no human ones save for those of Caled just now.

"Well?" says Tyronius coolly. "Where is this 'friend' of yours?"

Marabir frowns, peering hopefully under the table before rising.

"Maybe they haven't arrived yet? Or maybe they left another note?" he suggests, beginning to open drawers in the bench and nightstand, before tossing over the moth-eaten pillow and quilt, all to no avail.

"Or perhaps they are waiting in the forest to ambush us on our way out?" Tyronius suggests grimly, making no effort to assist his brother.

Marabir scowls at his brother, before turning to Aerendir.

"What do you make of it, Aerendir?"

"It was a shady note with no proof in the first place. Is anyone but you really surprised there's nothing here?" Aerendir says, poking into the pantry in search of waterskins and food.

"I mean, if I were a shady assassin thinking about luring somebody gullible off and murdering them, I would wait until they were on their own and not surrounded by four bodyguards to reveal myself," Falnis offers, not seeming to need to be briefed on what's going on to contribute his thoughts here.

Aerendir does find a serviceable waterskin in one of the drawers, though it appears any food left behind has long since been eaten by rodents.

Marabir does not seem to appreciate either Aerendir or Falnis' contributions, and decides not to grace either with a response, instead making his way out of the cabin once more.

Aerendir appropriates the waterskin, seemingly feeling a place so devoid of food can hardly be in need of it.

It is as the party exit the cabin once more that a gruff, baritone voice sounds from somewhere in the oak whose root stretches beneath the cabin. Glancing up, they become aware of a bearded man in perhaps his late forties perched on one of the branches. He is dressed in the dark greenish-brown tunic and cloak of a ranger, which blend almost seamlessly into his surroundings.

"I must say, Prince Marabir, you have a decidedly strange notion of the phrase 'trust no one'. A Vard agent? A varim assassin? Morfion's brother? Not to mention all the knights, peasants and children you could find, by the looks of it. I almost didn't reveal myself. Fortunately for you, time is short and revealing myself is a risk I am forced to take."

"Aldaran?" says Calvorn, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yes, hello, Calvorn," sighs the man perched in the tree.