Several months had passed now with no notable change since the incident that took place upon the Dragon Isles. While parts of Lily Pier had been revisited and reclaimed - the Squire had felt the same. Debilitating confidence was hidden with a broad smile and exceptional service to the people; but inside she felt great distress and frustration. Every day was an effort to strive to do more, to be better, and to grow in the ways needed of the Coalition.
She had met so many people in such a short time from the darkest parts of Duskwood to the poorest areas within Westfall. No one person was more invaluable than the other - and Lenora saw to it that her presence was known.
One such traveler she had met was a man by the name of Sir Jandor Briarwood. He happened upon the small town of Darkshire not too many days before while she had been doing a final patrol of the area. According to him, there had been some hysterical woman spouting about a witch in the area. And while it wasn't too far-fetched for the Squire to believe, it did raise some concern about the Coalition's absence in the darkened woods.
But if there was some one she could count on to keep things in check, it would be that of Blackscale. In their previous departure to the Dragon Isles, he had kept to his word to ensure the dangers would be kept at bay. Though as to the details of that venture, she didn't press too much. Especially given that her spirit had become completely shaken since their defeat against Stratogeth.
There were likely some conversations with Adamar to straighten her mindset and bottle those feelings she felt temporarily. But there was a boundary being set onto how much she depended on that guidance. So much so that she made any excuse to remain sparse from her mentors and keep as busy as she could. It wasn't like this boundary was needed though when Adamar was called to investigate more trouble elsewhere in the realm. Newfound activities that were adopted by the Squire ranged from reconstructing homes, to broadening her skills at the forge after Apprentice Hal's tutelage, and to train in isolation after any mandatory arrangements by her knights.
Every minute that wasn't spent doing something led her to that spiraling discomfort of despair. It was only in the presence of others that she could keep her mask on and put on the face that people wanted to see. That was easier than the nights she had to work herself to the point of exhaustion to sleep. There was a constant worry about the dreams that had surfaced in her coma that led her to fight against her body's needs.
On one of the final days before the voyage set to Northrend would take place, Sir Briarwood had arrived to Westfall injured after an attack in Duskwood. In her efforts to see to his recovery, she took him to the local church within Brushwind for treatment and to hear the doctrine of the light for some blessings. His armor was terribly damaged and the night was spent in utilizing some of the Draconium ore she had collected while at the Dragon Isles to fix it.
Given the effort of her contributions - there was no way Jandor felt he could return the favor outside of his appreciation and gratitude. That had felt like enough for the numbed Squire. And it gave her a sense of fulfillment when not a lot else had.
As the dawn of the voyage arrived, she brought herself towards the dock with what belongings she had for such a frozen hellscape. And while she had developed a close and strong bond with Dopey, her horse was brought about this time to accompany her onto the boat. The days that followed at sea were swifter than the months she had endured in Westfall.
Upon their arrival at Venture Bay - the Squire had kept her ears open and head down to escort those in need from the vessel. Everyone was given a hand where she could spare it. And while she had some interest in seeing what else the world had to offer, it felt watered down by the reception at the dock. But as she had promised to those she left behind - she made time to write to them telling of her arrival to Northrend.
Yet so much remained unknown to the Squire. And while she didn't know how to anticipate the trouble that lie ahead, she was mentally preparing herself for it. And before long, another solemn day passed where she was roused from her sleep to aid with the caravans and wagons.
The deciduous woodland of Grizzly Hills was surveyed as she followed on foot beside one of the wagons. Her horse was used to help pull one of the many wagons to the Howling Fjord. It was no surprise that the brisk cold air was certainly something she would need to adapt to. But if anything, she had a strengthened resolve to see things through.
And as she had expected, some journeys aren't made without a hiccup in the road.
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