It is, conventionally, a week's travel from Iomedae's father's holdings to Kantaria. They are only thirty miles apart as the crow flies, but that's cutting through the forest, and you have to be very foolish or very powerful to cut through the forest.  You'd need magical horses from a caster powerful enough that they can ford a few rivers without slowing, and you'd need to be able to kill anything that considered you prey.  Ordinary men go along the river where there's a trail cleared, and cross it at the north bridge where the lord of Hassant lives, and that route is three times as long but won't kill you. 

A third circle paladin and a fifth circle wizard can ride directly, and should be there in three hours. 

When they hear voices, about an hour in, they both pull their horses to a complete halt immediately and without discussion. There aren't usually men this deep in the forest, and a lot of things that sound like men aren't.

The sudden stop is more noticeable than the rustle of leaves before it was. Guim quiets and stops suddenly himself, listening. He shifts his weight in preparation for outright picking Ferran up and running, not that he'll be amazing at doing both of those at once.

Ferran clenches his jaw as tight as he can and tries to quiet his breathing and stop making vaguely pathetic sounds. He has no idea what Guim has noticed but he would prefer it not notice him first.

Please don't let it be centipedes. Please don't let it be centipedes. Who do you pray to for it not to be centipedes. Are there any gods who don't actively want him devoured by centipedes. ...well, probably lots, he's not arrogant enough to think that most of the gods care what happens to him at all, but the centipedes don't actually need much assistance -

Iomedae isn't scared, but she isn't going to be stupid either. There are a lot more things that can kill you if you're careless than things that can kill you if you're smart. She nudges the phantom steed in the direction of the voices.

Alfirin casts an Arcane Sight then follows a short distance behind.

There are two young men standing between some trees, one human and half-orc. Late teens or early twenties, both of them. Both are obviously outfitted for combat, but certainly not old enough or strong enough that they ought to be wandering this far into the forest by themselves. The human is wearing some magic items, including a cloak and a ring. His armor is black and bearing something that very much resembles the coat of arms of House Narikopolus. He's got a mangled foot that he's avoiding putting weight on, and looks like he would probably have collapsed a while ago if the half-orc weren't very insistently keeping him upright. The half-orc looks like he's also sustained some injuries, but nothing obviously serious.

The half-orc is paying attention, though the human is fairly well distracted. Neither one of them is going to figure out where Iomedae and Alfirin are before they are noticed, though they're keeping pretty still now.

"No illusions. Minor cloak and a ring," she mutters as the men come into view.

So probably exactly what they look like, which is Narikopolus's men who got stranded in the forest somehow. "I'm a paladin of Aroden, do you need any assistance?" she calls loudly, and urges the horse towards them.

"Did you make that out?"

"They must be foreign." They don't look Nidalese, though. "Sound friendlier than centipedes, anyway."

Yes, yes, it could be worse, though it doesn't especially feel like it. Maybe he can collapse and make Guim talk to them. That's honestly sounding pretty good right now. Maybe if he really determinedly sits down Guim will let him actually do it.

Well, okay.

"Can you repeat that? My lord's son is injured. He needs transport out of the forest."

She is wearing what is, in her own time, very good armor; but armor is a matter where there is a great deal of innovation and it is not shockingly impressive nine hundred years on. It has an eye of Aroden engraved on the chestplate. Her cloak is brightly colored with the arms of the Knights of Ozem. 

She dismounts and repeats herself, more slowly, a bit puzzled. She doesn't understand them either and this is Menador, not somewhere where you'd expect to find foreigners - 

She knows Taldane. The language these men are speaking is not Taldane. It's also... not not Taldane? It's less not Taldane than it is not Hallit or not Draconic or not Giant or not - relevantly - Sylvan. Comprehend Languages. She gestures for the men to repeat themselves.

"We were separated from our hunting party, and my lord's son was injured. He needs transport out of the forest. Our hunting party can't be very far away, though they might also be injured." He can't imagine them having lost, not with Carles in the party. "You said you're -?"

"He says the injured man is the son of a lord, they need help out of the forest, and the rest of their hunting party should be nearby. I don't have a tongues prepared but do have a third open and can fill it in a minute or a quarter-hour. They don't seem to understand who we are or recognize your arms, do you know theirs?"

"That's the house Narikopolus only it'd be very odd for any man of their house not to speak Taldane." She steps in to Lay On Hands on the injured man all the same.

Oh gods that's so much better.

....this woman is not dressed like an Asmodean cleric. She is definitely not a druid. She has healing powers. He knows powerful enough fighters can have healing powers, but he has a sinking feeling in his stomach that that's not really the most likely explanation. Probably these people are criminals? Foreign criminals with a cleric of a foreign deity? In the middle of the Barrowood, for some reason? But if these people are criminals, then why is he not dead? He can recognize his own name, so it's not that they don't know who he is.

Even healed, he doesn't think he's in any position to arrest them. He stands and nods, instead.

"Thank you, that's much better. We can look for the rest of our party alone."

We can??? What???

Well that's wildly suspicious. 

...not a man of house Narikopolus, but wearing his armor. Bandits, hoping for the impersonation to which they committed themselves by wearing the armor to be over as swiftly as possible? But - 

- no, that doesn't make sense either. They requested help getting out of the forest at first. And you'd cover the armor, if you were a bandit and didn't think you could pull off the impersonation, say because you didn't even speak a word of Taldane. She does not in fact have confident suspicion, she just has several hundred questions.

"We were going to Kantaria," she says, slowly and carefully. "I can shout for your men, or defend you from what else may come if you call for them. But if they do not hear us, then it is wise I think to come with us. My wizard can make more horses."

They are ALSO going to Kantaria. Unless Carles means to make them keep killing things, but he really doesn't think they're in keep-killing-things territory. Honestly given the snow is gone he thinks they're in get back to Kantaria as soon as possible and figure out what's up with that territory, but he's not in charge, now, is he.

He doesn't actually spend all that long thinking about this. If Carles is around they will probably have the manpower to arrest her, and they probably won't make him decide whether they're doing that. 

"Fine. I'll yell for them now, then."

"CARLES! IOLANDA!"

Might as well prepare the tongues while they wait. She wishes Curiosity were here, she's on edge and an extra pair of eyes wouldn't hurt.

She finishes the spell in about a minute and then pretends she's not done and still distracted while actually paying much more attention to the strangers.

The whole party is not in fact too far away to be called to by very loud yelling, though it takes them a minute to arrive. It consists of one somewhat older half orc out in front, one woman with blood red hair dressed like a wizard, one male human cleric, one female half-orc, and a few other riders behind them. 

The half-orcs have the same coat of arms on their armor, while the wizard has it sewn onto the shoulder of her coat. Her other shoulder has an Asmodean pentagram sewn into it. The cleric, too, is visibly a cleric of Asmodeus. 

Oh, Baphomet cultists. Fuck.