The stagecoach pressed onward, its wheels rumbling over the terrain. The large, four-horse carriage was crammed full of passengers; Angeline’s party had managed to find a spot at the back.
The weather was fine, and there was a pleasant breeze, so the canopy had been partially opened up to allow the passengers to enjoy the sunlight.
Miriam stretched her arms overhead, groaning. “Ahh... Maybe I drank a bit too much last night. I’m still feeling a little off.”
“From that measly bit of wine? You’re a bit of a lightweight, ain’tcha?”
“From your standards, everyone’s a lightweight, Maggie. I’m a delicate little girl!”
“You? Delicate?”
“Aw, don’t say it like that!”
“Putting aside whether Merry is ‘delicate’ or not, I’m still a little sleepy too,” Anessa said, rubbing her eyes.
Perhaps they’d overdone it with their drinking party the night before, as all of them but one had woken up with a hangover. Marguerite, who had undoubtedly drunk more than anyone else, was the only one of them with any pep today. Even as the rest of her party remained listless and despondent, she was having a good time of it.
Angeline’s head felt a big foggy. After drinking her fill with her friends, she had also had a few more cups of wine with Ishmael. She had become a stronger drinker by now compared to how she had once been, but she was still a long shot from truly strong drinkers like Sasha and Marguerite. The throbbing headache she had woken up with had only just subsided. The wagon was riding against the wind, which carried the scent of soil and grass somewhere along the road ahead. The refreshing scents seemed to ease her lingering stupor and make her feel better even if everything that had happened the night before was still somewhat of a blur to her.
In spite of the reprieve, she was feeling a bit pent-up and took it out on Marguerite beside her by pinching her cheeks.
“Agh!”
“It’s unfair that you’re the only one in a good mood...”
“Lay off me! Your weakness ain’t my fault.” Marguerite pinched Angeline back, leading to a rowdy tussle.
Anessa, frowning, chastised the two. “Now, now. Don’t act up on public transport. You’re being a bother.”
“You’re a noisy bunch...” Yakumo groused from the seat behind.
Angeline turned around to face Yakumo. Lucille was sitting next to her with her eyes shut, arms wrapped around her guitar. A moment ago, she had been quite interested in Ishmael’s scent, but she had piped down ever since the front canopy had been opened up to let in the pleasant light of the autumn sun. She was either sunbathing or napping now.
“Are you sleepy too, Ms. Yakumo...?”
“Not really. We weren’t looking forward to going to Turnera nearly as much as you were, so I’m not particularly fired up.”
“Even when you can meet dad?”
“You’re the one who wants to see him.”
“Of course I’m happy, but so are Anne and Merry. Maggie too.”
“Says who?” Marguerite cut in. “It’s nothing but lectures when Bell’s around.”
Angeline puffed out her cheeks. “Dad never gives any unnecessary lectures.”
“I’ll give you that, but, uh... Let’s leave it at that. I never get anywhere arguing with you about Bell,” Marguerite said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Angeline’s mouth worked soundlessly—there was clearly something more she wanted to say, but in the end, she held her tongue and settled comfortably back into her seat. These quarrels weren’t rare, and they’d never reached a resolution before. Of course, Angeline always came out of them with the impression that she’d won. But right now, she wasn’t really in the mood for it, so she decided to drop it with the elf just this once.
Marguerite leaned against the walls of the carriage and stared out at the distant scenery. Miriam yawned and restlessly hugged her knees, while Anessa furnished a book from her bag.
What a peaceful scene... Angeline mused that this serene journey would soon bring them to Turnera, and the autumn festival wouldn’t be far away by the time they arrived. In the meantime, she’d enjoy being pampered by her father to her heart’s content and cooking with her mother; she’d help out with the harvest, play with her younger siblings, tease Byaku, and maybe get in some sparring with Percival and Graham. Her head was filled with all the fun things ahead of her. Angeline recalled the bag stuffed full of gifts of sweets, dolls, and books she had brought with her. Mit, the twins, and Charlotte would be delighted, surely. She’d purchased wine and distilled spirits too, which wouldn’t go amiss with Kasim and Percival.
Oh, and I can’t forget this time—I’m going to pick those cowberries. Angeline had visited the grove in early spring, when the thickets had been teeming with deep green leaves. Once fall came around, they would be abundantly covered with small, vibrant berries. She could fill a whole basket and the bushes wouldn’t look any less full of the berries. She yearned for the mountain, and the festival, and sitting in front of the hearth late into the night. She could already imagine the tales Graham would tell when she told them about her plans to head east. His tales of adventure were always so interesting, and everyone would listen carefully to each word he said. And surely his tales of the east would come in handy on their own journey.
Apparently, Seren was supposed to establish herself in Turnera before the winter; Angeline had learned this from a letter that had arrived not too long ago. She was prone to only writing simple letters herself, but Belgrieve’s monthly missives were much more comprehensive, and he would tell her about his day-to-day life along with lines upon lines of encouragement. Sometimes, the letters would include sentences penned by Satie, Percival, and Kasim too. One time, the letter had even come enclosed with a pressed flower, courtesy of Charlotte.
In any case, that letter had told of the establishment of the guild, the various facilities ancillary to it, and the groundwork being laid for new industries with Kerry leading the charge. The many long passages on these topics made it clear to Angeline that her father was looking forward to it all. Thus, Angeline was kept up to date with what was happening in Turnera in a general sense. The letters stoked her homesickness, and just picturing all these changes made her even more eager to return.