Zi'da 12 717, Afternoon
Location: Foster's Landing
So far everything he owned had been packed and ready to go, his voyage to Rharne would start soon now that they'd done what they can. After his stunt the trial prior to this one, Patrick felt sure that both Raimeus and the locals would be hot on his tail now. "So how long before you get back kiddo?" Crowley asked as he stood by the windows to watch the streets outside, a cigar in his mouth as he took a good drag off of the stick.
"Trips usually take about thirty trials give or take, that's what the captain said anyways." Patrick spoke aloud as he folded and rolled his jacket and other clothing, the fabrics shoved in to jam the pack tight with his other essentials. He'd dressed up in his leather armor this time around, determined to wear it out across to the docks at best. His crossbow on the other hand... would remain here with Crowley in the mean time. "When I get there I'm only gonna stick around for a few days, tie up loose ends just before I make a trip back over here."
"So if I'm counting right... Thirty trials there and back is sixty total, and a few days extra would make it closer to..."
"The eightieth of Zi'da, I know I've done the math over and over already." Patrick cut in as he finished sealing the bag.
"We'd be cutting it awfully close."
"We will be," Patrick assured him, "But we need that dagger and those notes if we're gonna find Orimar, the chalice alone isn't gonna tell us where it is exactly."
"It could..." Crowley anticipated as he turned to look at Patrick. "But we don't know that for sure until Cylus."
"Which is why I'm gonna be back before then, and in the mean time we'll keep an ear to the ground. Raimeus can try to keep it quiet all he wants, fact is his expedition is out to the public by now. People are going to be wanting to work for a chance to bring home relics, treasure, anything they can bring back with them probably.
"Well, you can count on me to do that. When you get back I'll fill you in on everything that's been going down." Crowley promised him with a nod, though he didn't seem too thrilled about Patrick going at it alone from here.
"Thanks Crowley, I promise I'll be back. With the dagger and notes in check." Patrick reassured him with a hand pressed onto his shoulder. "Then we'll have a drink, figure out how to locate Orimar and grab ourselves some treasure afterwards."
"Yeah," The older man chuckled with a smirk, "If only it were that easy." Crowley looked down at first and then back up to Patrick, his concern only greater when he touched Patrick by the shoulder as well. "Be careful kid. There's a lot at stake here, and it'd suck to see you get hurt."
"I've been through worse." Patrick remarked with a grin as he patted his friend once more, which he then moved back to his pack and lifted it over his shoulder. "You'll see me back sooner than you think." Both had a brief moment to grin at one another, and then afterwards Patrick reached a hand out to Crowley. "Take care pal."
"You as well kid." Crowley murmured as he shook the hand firmly. Then with one last pat on each other's shoulder, Patrick moved to the doorway of their room. Steadily with a tall walk he carried himself down the hall and into the main lobby of the tavern, and proceeded outside into the streets of Foster's Landing. He didn't need to but if he'd looked over his shoulder, he probably would've found Crowley watching through that same window. Oddly enough the thought made him smile just a little wider, for one it felt good to have somebody like that. It had been too long since he'd had someone to look out for him, someone that'd go out their way to bail him out of trouble when he found it.
Now he just had to head to the docks where the vessel and it's captain would be waiting, which meant he had to walk a little ways through town before he arrived at the docks. Their tavern had been well picked in terms of a hideout but with Patrick gone, Crowley would have to play it smart on his own. Moving about different taverns as both the local guard and
Raimeus's small army searched for him. The two had definitely done a number on their reputation here, before too long they'd have to clear out of Foster's Landing entirely if continued to stir the pot further. Patrick moved down the street and turned a corner, onto another that would take him closer to the docks as he walked in bigger steps.
He tried not to look so suspicious as he walked but the sooner he was off, the better his chances of getting out without further delay. A few guards seemed to turn onto his street down the road, and for a split Trill he paused and wandered off into alleyway; He couldn't afford any more risks at this point.