"Anything yet?”

“Nothing.”

Cruck’aa let out an annoyed trill, setting his soup bowl down on the log that he and Pavel sat on.

“Look Cruck’aa,” Pavel said around a mouthful of soup. “I can’t just search the man’s wagon. Even if I am the captain of the guard.”

“You could.”

“I can’t.”

“You could, but you worry about breaking his trust.”

Pavel swallowed, before gesturing into the air. “No Cruck’aa, I have no reason to search him. Larion hasn’t done anything wrong. I’d get into a massive amount of trouble.”

“With whom?” Cruck’aa asked, throwing another stick into the fire; despite its warmth, his feathers were still ruffled from the cold. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, next to the Misty Woods of all places. Larion gets mad and hates you, sure, but there isn’t anyone around who –”

“It’s not about who’s currently here.” Pavel put his own soup bowl down; he lowered his voice and glanced around to the other campfires that dotted the grass field next to the Trade Way. “The caravan is financially backed by a number of merchants. When we get to Waterdeep, if Larion complains to those merchants, I can get thrown into a cell for randomly searching him. He would have more proof towards getting me arrested than I would searching his wagon.”

“Our contact gave us plenty of proof Pavel.” Cruck’aa said, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, by all means, tell him the Harpers suspect him of working with the cult. See how that goes.”

“Hmph.” The Aarakocra crossed his arms. “If you refuse to do this, then we must find another way to prove he’s working with them.”

Pavel stood up and began strapping back on his sword belt, having previously dropped it against the log.

“Get Serena to help you figure something out. With her magic, I’m sure –”

“No.” Cruck’aa waved a talon. “I consider her out. She’s too distracted.”

“Out?” Pavel hooked his thumbs into his belt. “What’d you mean?”

“Is it not obvious Pavel? Our resident pyromaniac spends too much time with her teamster to care about our mission.”

“I remember you moaning about that back in Simont.”

“Where?”

“Uh,” Pavel cocked his head. “The village where we picked Jo up? Does no one remember the name?”

“Why would I want to remember a shithole like that?” Cruck’aa shook his head. “Anyways, Serena’s teamster has been monopolizing all of her time. Those two are never alone and –”

“Well not recently.” Pavel placed a foot on the log and leaned against his leg, half plate clacking loudly against the still of the night. “Every time Werond tries to talk to Serena, Serena gets all red and runs off. Wonder what happened? Been happening for…what, past two days?”

“I don’t know Pavel,” Irritation laced Cruck’aa’s voice. “I’m just happy they’ve finally shut up. But how long will that last? By the time we reach Daggerford, Werond will have Serena in a room all to herself, and you think she’ll stay with us if that happens?”

Pavel stared at Cruck’aa, a blank look across his face.

“How does them sharing a room lead to Serena leaving us?”

“Because she’s seducing her Pavel!” Cruck’aa yelled, shrill voice echoing through the trees; he continued as Pavel waved frantically. “That’s all her teamster has been doing, buttering Serena up! And by the time we end up in Waterdeep, Serena will be ready to skip town with her!”

“Cruck’aa, shush!” Pavel said, gesturing to the woods. “Gods know what’s in there! And I don’t think that’ll happen. Serena was the one who said yes to this mission first, she’s just as committed as you are.”

“Then she should show it.”

“Oh man, something has ruffled your feathers tonight.” Pavel stepped off from the log, readjusting his belt. “Look, I’d love to keep talking, but I’ve got a meeting with all of the teamsters.”

Cruck’aa snorted.

“Perhaps then you could tell Serena’s teamster to back the Nine Hells off.”

“Uh huh, we’ll see about that. Good night Cruck’aa.”