“The effects of the Dolskum Root – when ingested readily from a young age – upon the hair of individuals, as witnessed through the people of Skrande, are not something which manifest themselves haphazardly at random. Generally speaking, it is found that Skrandonese individuals will usually - in most cases – have hair of nearly the same hue as one of their parents. Seemingly, certain colors are more dominant than others; because of this, is not uncommon to see almost everyone at a Skrandonese family reunion with hair of very similar shades.”

- Excerpt from the Encyclopedia Corsinthia

Chapter 23: “Unhappily Marching”

The twittering and rustling sounds of an assorted variety of woodland creatures could be heard, coming forth in seemingly random bursts, from all sides; more importantly, though, there was also the sound of very hurried and somewhat angry footsteps upon the forest path that morning. At the helm of the unhappily marching unit - setting the currently very brisk pace for the rest of the group, out of hopes of being done with Tallus Osmaard’s errand as quickly as possible - was Jysalef Soresh. Though everyone else’s footsteps clearly had the same sound of perturbance as did the vagrant swordsman’s, the reasons for why the others were all so equally irked did vary from person to person within the quartet.

Slightly to Jysalef’s side – currently attempting to respectfully ask if the things said last night between the priestess and his mentor were entirely necessary, not to mention the fact that they had started their march today without first eating – was Terus Kyreon, the young swordsman in training. His mentor, currently in a far more sour mood than he was normally used to witnessing out of him, did not seem much impressed with Terus’s arguments on either of the fronts he was bringing forward. On the matter of the nasty altercation he had with Reoisce’aihr the previous night, the vagrant swordsman reiterated steadfastly his stance that the fact a high priestess from Skrande was currently here was a matter to be taken as highly suspect. As for the issue with the fact that they hadn’t eaten yet, he sarcastically reminded his ward that there was simply no time to waste in rushing off to retrieve an accursed book that a certain scholar could just as easily fetched himself a few weeks earlier.

Somewhat behind Jysalef and his ward - close enough to be seen if one in the front were to stop and take a moment to glance backwards, yet not nearly near enough to be heard unless one wanted to be loud – were Latte and Reoisce’aihr. That the cyan-haired priestess might not want to engage in words with Jysalef this morning - or even the entire remainder of the trip to Dulsnik, for that matter - was not something that really needed stating; that said, it was not the only reason she was currently keeping back out of earshot from those at the group’s helm. That Latte was currently walking, at a speed that was just barely removed from actual running, next to the Skrandonese priestess was something related to Reoisce’aihr’s other reasons for presently keeping her distance from walking ahead

There was something upon which Reoisce’aihr had been meaning to discuss with Latte ever since she had first went to back to Tallus’s house, after – of course – first being unfortunately saved from a perfectly unaccusable death by a most truly bitter man. What she meant to ask, all this time, was something that she had been having some difficulty finding the proper moment with which to bring it up; especially since it was something of a delicate matter, after all. However, seeing that there was absolutely no reason whatsoever she could feasibly have for continuing to be around this group once they reached their coincidentally mutual destination, she knew that it was going to have to be now or never.

Keeping her voice down, so as not to be heard by the two tromping along ahead of them, she looked over to the pink-haired girl and put forth what had been on the back of her mind these last few days, “Latte, child, there is something I’ve long been meaning to ask in regards to you hair.”

“What about my hair, ma’am?” said Latte with a trembling voice as she looked over to the foreign priestess, her eyes currently filled with a great dread. Whether or not the fear she displayed had been in reaction to the statement just now given to her would have been impossible to ascertain; after all, Latte had been consistently acting as if she was amidst great danger ever since the day preceding. What can be known for sure was that, had she not been asked to do otherwise, she most surely would have rather been standing far closer to Terus than she presently was.

The cyan-haired priestess spoke slowly as she continued forward with her delicate inquiry, “Well, my child, it’s just that I’ve not been able to help but notice that your hair is a most distinctive shade of pink; furthermore, despite the fact you speak Corsinthian with a native accent, your face seems to suggest…”

Latte, stamping a foot down quite prominently in the process, shouted out a protest that interrupted the case the priestess had been trying to build, “I’m Corsinthian!” That this fairly audible outburst did not draw the attentions of Jysalef and Terus was presumably due to the fact they were both quite engaged at the moment in a discussion of their own.

Reoisce’aihr, after a few moments of awkward silence between Latte and herself, put on a nervous smile as she apologetically declared, “I am sorry, I did not mean to imply anything; I am a stranger from a different land, and I guess I did not realize that Corsinthian women had taken to coloring their hair like this.”

Latte sadly looked down to the small foliage growing on the side of the forest path, and away from the cyan-haired priestess, as she slowly declared in a wholly ashamed tone, “No, Ma’am, I… I haven’t been having my hair colored; it has always looked as you see it now.” The girl, whom clearly was not enjoying where this conversation was going, seemed as if she was on the verge of breaking down into tears at a moment’s notice.

The Skrandonese priestess bit her lip whilst she wondered silently to herself if she even had the right to get to the heart of what she had been mulling over these last few days since first she had noticed the girl’s pink hair. Not only was it true that this line of questioning was clearly proving greatly disturbing to Latte, whom was now on the verge of tears, but there was also the fact that she could think of only one bloodline in all of Skrande that carried pink hair upon their scalps. It now seemed to her that this girl, whom claimed to be an assistant to a prominent member of Corsinthia’s holy order, was perhaps quite far from the heart of Skrande by a matter of design.

However, Reoisce’aihr was not permitted to think long about her thoughts surrounding Latte; for just then there came forth a most booming declaration from behind the entirety of the travelling quartet. “I guess it would appear that our anonymous informant was not misleading us, after all! Well, defiler, it would perhaps seem that you disgustingness reaches so far that it is even recognized universally by your own godless people!”

Immediately Jysalef Soresh, as well everyone else, dropped their various conversations and concerns as they whipped around to see the source of this sudden and unexpected statement. There - standing behind the four of them, where just a few moments earlier there had surely been no one at all - were both the emerald haired Naun’tkch, and his remaining associate from the previous assassination attempt back in Elpsiod. This time – however - the hood of his remaining cohort was let down, permitting the man’s long cyan colored hair to blow about freely in the mild breeze that passed through the forest pathway to Dulsnik.