The road had been a blur, days passing in the mad dash to beat the Albions to the Baron's shipwright. Montagne, the Baron's destrier, ate up the miles as if they were oats. Bernard got him to go a little bit slower, to spare the horses of Lieutenant Lécuyer and the troubadour Megane.
Along the way, the inns had been badly spaced out on the road and one night they'd had to stay the night with some farmers. The panthran family had been very welcoming, offering stew and mead to Bernard's party. For their kindness, Bernard had seen fit to reward the family with a handful of silver coins.
The night in the hayloft had been no worse than a night on campaign. The lady troubadour had lodgings in the farmhouse, but the next day they had all stayed in a very fine coaching inn. A private cottage, hot water for baths, and a roaring fire restored everyone's spirits.
Seven days on the road and finally to Sardonée! A pretty little town, known for its expertise with celestium and with a very fine church. It had been here from before the great Pulse War, it was said. The shipwright had a twin brother in Sardonée, a choirmaster. Megane should be able to get Bernard a favourable letter of introduction, he thought.
Later, attending a concert at the church, the choir was justified in its fame, but Megane sung afterwards worthy of Trinity's angels. The choirmaster, Jean-Paul Chasseur was very happy to accompany them all to the Cochon d'Or, where a very fine meal and plenty of the best wine was had. He promised to provide the desired letter, though warning his brother could be a curmudgeon and difficult to work with.
The next morning, they attended a service at the church, and then the road again, to the shipwright and to Bernard's vision of a new Imperial Navy!