Emalia walked out of the eastern gates without the faintest clue where she was headed. There was no way she was going back to Melancholy's Maps after what had happened with Melchior, and due to him, she doubted she'd be going back into Westbridge anytime soon.
The road to the east was sparsely populated, which suited her fine, but her packs had already begun to weigh her down. Knowing it would take a bit of her energy, she cast a easy spell, and a disk materialized from thin air beside her. She hefted her pack onto it and sighed lightly, having her load dispersed.
The eastern road stretched as far as she could see and so, she gathered, she would simply follow it. Emalia glanced behind her and suspiciously around her. No followers.
Good. Even if there were any, the chance that she would have known would have been disastrously low - having not even the minimal of ideas of what to look for. It didn't matter - looking around helped her to calm herself.
The sun passed the midday point before Emalia had any idea where she was going. She would travel farther than she had before. She would visit the Temple of Lathander, the God she had read about from Grobnak's tomes. Renewal, Rebirth, and the Morning Lord might calm her mind and point to her the next steps she should be taking toward the Temple of Light.
Emalia passed the crossroad that lead to the Torregiano gates. Elbryan might very well be there now, reading. Again she looked around, the idea of spies rising in her head, but there was no one that particularly looked as though they cared who she was or what she was doing there or where she was going. What would he say of this journey? Going to a temple based on the name sounded idiotic at best, but she wouldn't be stopping in to ask his opinion.
She was traveling alone now, off to commune with Lathander in the hopes that there would be answers. The last thought she had as she approached the gates of New Thalos were the hope that her messengers had done what she paid them to do.
