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[Arcana]

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Arcana stepped outside the sturdy oak doors at Riverrun just in time to see the off-duty Sir Black and Moonie clink ale bottles in a toast and drink heartily. Black unbalanced as he tipped his ale back, and he slowly, inexorably slid backwards off the log where he and Moonie sat. He blinked slightly in confusion at finding himself of the ground for a moment before he and Moonie dissolved into giggles.

Arcana pinched the bridge of her nose. Gods… She made a mental note to find more duties for Sir Black to occupy his free time with tasks other than teaching the younger knights how to drink all her ale. Many more duties. Nearby, Rhen, another of her knights and thankfully sober, chuckled to himself at her pained expression, glad that he wasn’t about to be on the receiving end of their Lady’s ire.

However, Sir Black was spared by the long-expected arrival of the Army of the Frontier’s trade caravan from Yew. The small train of packhorses was escorted by a formidable number of Arlin’s soldiers, nearly all of whom were quite happy to immediately join Sir Black and Moonie in their off-duty passtime.

As the ale was passed ‘round and the packhorses laden with hides and ingots were unloaded, Arlin found his way to Arcana’s side to discuss the details of the return shipment of armor that her artisans would craft.