With your rickety shamble-cart, you weave between the hills down the slope and leave the shepherdess to her flock. Bella tries to take turns pulling the cart, if you let her; but you are certainly stronger, and any arrangement is going to burden you more than she. You do not have a tremendous amount of goods - you packed light to be able to fly - but it is easier to pull your improvised cart than to lash everything together and walk with it on your back for many miles, so that is what you do. Bella is confident she can fight the way back to the grave marker; and that she can navigate from here. The pass terminates in the land between the fork of the river Brienne. You must follow the road north, which will take you to a bridge over the river's east branch, and eventually to the town of Marguilles - the first town of note enough to appear on the map that your cartographer friend provided for you.

But before that, there is the road that winds slowly down from the foothills of the mountains to the interior of Carcassone. But on your first day of travel, just as the sun is high in the autumn sky staving off the chill of the wind for a few hours, you meet your first Bretonnian - for the second time.

The clop of hooves comes from behind you on the road in the distance first, so it is no surprise when a lone rider comes around the curve of the grassy hill you rounded not long ago. The road is wide enough that you do not need to pull off it for a rider; just to one side. But you and Bella pause to watch, as he comes around.

The horse is the biggest you've seen - the biggest you've seen, bar none. You had heard talk about Bretonnian horses, but the creature is truly a goliath of its kind; a warhorse larger than even the warhorses you'd seen under the Knights of the Blazing Sun riding out of Verezzo, or the draft horses that pull coaches and plows. Its coat is glossy black with striking exceptions; a white spot between the eyes, white cannons from knee to hoof giving it the appearance of wearing fluffy white socks, and majestic white hair of the mane and tail - whiter than yours. It is clad in a light panoply of studded leather barding which it has no trouble carrying at all; the rider's effects likewise trivial to its burden in saddlebags and a pack behind the saddle.

But the rider you have seen before - the knight in black and gold tabard, with scarred and battered mail. He rides in the sun with his helm off and coif and skullcap off, and you see the warrior beneath now - a young knight, no more than ten years the senior of you and Bella. He is not unhandsome - his skin olive, his hair is black; and his eyes are a pale grey, and all of these features are arrayed pleasingly in his presentation. A thin moustache does considerable work elevating his face from 'boyish' to just barely the right side of manly. His most unusual feature is a tattoo on his face - a jagged line that stars just at the line of his hair, drops down to above the right eyebrow, hooks back to the right temple then jags straight down over that cheek to terminate at the jawline. This, alone, seems quite unknightly; more of the kind of odd marking a pirate might have, or some thug in a city gang.

What he does not have with him is a glorious chestnut colored pegasus. But he is distinct enough in his person that you recognize him anyway; as does Bella, who reaches to grasp your hand instinctively as the knight - one of the fabled knights of Bretonnia - trots up on his massive steed and slows to a stop beside you. His pale grey eyes behold your ramshackle cart as he dismounts - then you, and the blunderbuss, marking this familiar elements of the encounter in the mountains - and asks in his incomprehensible native tongue:

"Pardonnez-moi, jeunes filles. N'ai-je pas... Rendez-vous, dans le col de montagne? Parlez-vous Breton?"

Spoiler: OOC: Successful Speak Language (Tilean) test, at +0%
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Breton has the same classical roots as Tilea and Estalian, in many cases. You think he is asking, politely, something about the mountains; and if you speak Breton.