Chapter One

I step into the crisp air of the northern city, my purple traveling robes fluttering about me in the gentle warm breezes of the fjords. I look around, up and down, enjoying the exquisite view of the surrounding mountains. Ahead of me, the blue docks are buzzing with people, as dockworkers load and unload various merchantman ships, and I even spot a fluyt from the far southeast, thousands of leagues from its home.

As I look around, I notice with some comfort that the goods and business being done on the blue docks are that of wealthier folk; I see some rare birds in cages being signed off, the birds squawking as they’re handed to their new owners. A few boxes of quieter material are unloaded quickly - it takes a trained eye to see smuggling in the open, and I smile to myself as I notice it, satisfied that the wealth I know at home is no different than the wealth I see here.

It’ll make my awaiting adventure that much easier.

I toddle slowly onto the docks, turning and waiting. As I watch, the hired help slowly - and terrified all the while, I should add - lead my two pets onto the dock.

I smile, and widen my arms as I see the two spotted lionesses slowly patter their way down the wide gangway, sniffing the air. They spot me, and their eyes widen, bounding forward. The two of them purr loudly, vibrating my very bones as they nudge their heads into me so hard they nearly knock me over.

“And the carriage?” I call out. Moments later, hired help arrive from within, pulling a two-wheeled buggy behind them. It’s an ornate, yet slightly garish thing, my nephews so thoughtfully built for me a few years back. I do love it, though it’s a tad loud for my taste.

I give them thanks, giving a handful of gold coins to each. Their eyes grow wide as I do, and I bid them farewell.

I look over my buggy, ensuring everything works. With a wave of my hand, I conjure the harness and reins, attaching the buggy to my two lionesses, Slate and Smoke. Their tails whip around as they wiggle their bodies, getting used to the feeling of the harnesses once more after nearly a month at sea.

I lift the two-person seat of the buggy, checking the chest within; Inaccessible to any but me, the chest is much larger on the interior than the exterior. While watching a skilled enchanter create a bag of holding for a lovely group of adventurers some years back, I realized that I could encourage and entice him to attach something similar to my favorite chest that I take with me on the road. When my nephews built this buggy, they created a compartment under the seat so I could put the chest within.

I open the chest, and everything within appears to be as I left it. I can’t see much, however, and I’d rather not draw the attention to myself to inspect it here in the open, so I put my hand within and say a small word of summoning, and my staff lifts from the corner of the room and flies to my grasp.

I pull it out, satisfied. I close the lid, and take a seat on the plush and comfortable seat. I press a button on the armrest, raising the buggy’s canopy, and settle down, my longtime traveling staff close to my body as I recline.

Closing my eyes, I reach out to the minds of the lionesses, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear, and I encourage them to pull me forward, to lead me around as they please. I am looking for nothing in particular, and I would be content to let them guide me around the new city as they see fit.

Satisfied, I open my eyes as the buggy lurches forward, the two lionesses slowly making their way down the docks. I watch as people, unsurprisingly, begin openly staring at me, in my lionesses-pulled buggy. I give them a polite wave, smiling softly at them as I pass.

Just beyond the blue docks, we find ourselves in the market. Vendors tightly pack both sides of the path, though it is wide. People part quickly for Slate and Smoke, and there are no issues as we slowly make our way through the market.

On the other side, there is a large inn, with the thinly veiled name the Crown Jewels. I snort upon seeing it, then nod to it. Slate and Smoke adjust accordingly. The front door is surprisingly wide, and Slate and Smoke elect to simply pull me straight into the inn itself.

As expected, at least one crossbow bolt is fired at my dear pets, but they retain their defenses as ever. It stops in mid air, quivering. I hold up my hand, and the bolt flies to my hand.

“Please do not shoot my pets,” I announce, my voice cutting through the rising panic within the inn. “They are harmless, and are much more intelligent than any typical animal.”

I press the button to lower my canopy, letting my old eyes adjust to the dim interior. Slate and Smoke pull me directly up to the bar before stopping, sitting upright and sniffing the air curiously.

My eyes adjust, and I can see the innkeep looking at me. She is a middle aged dragonborn, with blue scales that remind me of the ocean I just spent a month floating on. They glisten in the inn’s dim light, looking like the whitecaps of waves. A bemused smile plays across her face as she watches me, cleaning a glass.

“How might I help you today?” She cocks her head as she watches me with curiosity, brushing off a lion-headed man in a tattered, but respectable suit. He gives her a short bow before moving on to another table.

She watches my lions curiously, but without fear, and I wonder with interest what sorts of things she sees at this inn for two lions to not even bother her.

“I look for a room, for… an indefinite amount of time,” I tell her. “And, preferably, a meal for these two.”

“I have three rooms open. A basic room, at ten gold a night, though it contains only a desk, a cot, and a stool.” She chuckles low. “But I do not think that is of your… caliber. I have the middling room, at twenty gold a night, with a double bed and your own bath in it.”

“I’ll take the last one,” I say, reaching for my coin purse.

“I… I have not even described it yet,” she says with mild surprise. “It is fifty gold a night, and it is the house suite, called the Gemstone.”

“And I say again, I will take it,” I repeat, with a little impatience. “I’ll pay for three nights outright. How much extra to post a guard outside the door whenever I’m around?”

The dragonborn’s face is surprised, and she tilts her head at me. “I, ah… will get back to you on that. How soon do you need these accommodations?”

I put my coin purse back, then look her up and down. “I require forty pounds of raw meat, preferably a mix of a variety, for the two lions. I will require the hiring of three guards, one for each day I am here, and I require assistance drawing up a bath. I am old. I cannot be scooping buckets of water for an hour or I will be bed-ridden the following day.” I hand her a heavy coin purse, prepared for moments like this. “There are three hundred and fifty gold coins in here. That should be enough for my requests. I will return an hour before nightfall. I expect my room to be ready when I arrive.”

“I, ah, I will have Remiel get started on this at once.”

I take no heed of the dragonborn’s incredulous expression as she stares at the coin purse in front of her, arms loose at her side, and I send an image to Slate and Smoke to leave the Inn.

The brightness of the day reminds me to raise my canopy, and I do. I look around me as the lionesses padder across the market. They take me across the market, following their noses.

The markets turn into tall houses, crowding the main street and looming over as I look upwards at them. I see a few shops, but none of interest, as I enjoy the ride.

Eventually, we arrive in what seems to be a city square, and I can see four exceptionally large halls around us. They interest me, and I instruct Slate and Smoke to take me to the nearest one.

As we get closer, the hammering of metal on metal and smell of wood and smoke fills the air. It is the headquarters of an artisan’s guild, and I sit up, interested. I see a mixture of dwarves, elves, and gnomes working on various projects. I instruct Slate and Smoke to wait here, and call for help if anything happens, and step off the buggy.

I hear a roaring laughter come from a group of people gathered around a long table within the hall. The hall itself is entirely open to the outside world, with no walls reaching the ground, and I can’t help but appreciate the beauty even this simple building is constructed with. It is entirely a dwarven structure.

I make my way to the boisterous group. It begins to disperse as I get closer, but one person remains laughing - A robust dwarven woman wielding a chisel, pointing at various things around the hall. Her laughter is throaty and infectious, making me smile as I approach.

I raise a hand, catching her attention. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, beckoning me over.

“Ah, vat can I do for you, friend?” She greets me warmly, her words touched with a dwarvish accent.

I recognize her accent as that of the southerly dwarves, having lived amongst them for several decades. I give her their customary greeting; Two thumps with my fist to my chest, mimicking my own heartbeat, and a gesture forward.

This catches her off guard, but she returns my gesture with a look of curiosity. “I have not been home in nearabouts decade, babushka, but it is good to remember it. Vat can I do for you?”

“Who are the Clans of this area?” I ask. “I have spent time amongst the Southern Clans, but I know nothing of the Northern.”

She looks thoughtful as she answers. “I have encountered Those From Below, Skyforge, Deepsingers, and Copperheads. Of them, only the Skyforge and Copperheads have representatives here in Brightvale.”

I nod, pulling out my tome and recording the information.

Grimelda watches as I record her words, then asks, “Vat do you write?”

I hold up my quill for a moment, acknowledging her question. “This is my Tome of Dusk, where I keep my thoughts. I’m an old woman, I can’t remember everything.”

Grimelda chuckles at that. “Old by human standards, eh? You’d be barely considered middle aged by dwarven standards.”

I smile sagely at her, and for a brief moment, I let my magic coalesce around me. With the faintest of visibility, wisps of purple light float off me, sucking the light out of my immediate vicinity as they exist longer. My smile grows darker, and I allow the illusion of my eyes vanish for the briefest of moments.

And then it all vanishes, as quickly as it began. “I have seen a few centuries, yet,” I tell Grimelda, being vague on the timeframe.

Grimelda’s face pales, and she says nothing.

I continue. “I came directly to you, hoping you’d be able to direct me to your most experienced blacksmith. I have a very specific request in mind.”

“Of-of course,” she stammers out, then immediately takes off walking. I toddle behind her, managing to keep pace.

She brings us to the back corner of the hall, where a particularly old dwarf has his tools set up. He sits at a desk, looking out at the rest of the hall, and watches as we approach.

“This is Ulfgar Sky-Iron,” Grimelda introduces me. “There be no better smith in this hall, nor in this city.”

“Hello, lass,” the old dwarf greets me. I nod and smile, returning the greeting. “What has brought you to mine corner?”

I thank Grimelda, and she leaves the two of us. I approach Ulfgar, pulling out a gemstone from one of many hidden pockets, sewn to the interior of my robes.

I present Ulfgar with the gemstone - a water opal, slightly smaller than the palm of my hand. It is perfectly round, a sphere of pure brilliance. Magic pulsates from it, leaning towards me.

Ulfgar’s expression turns to wonderment as he stares at the gemstone. “May I?” He asks, gesturing towards the opal. I nod, and he picks it up, looking at it from every angle and through the light.

“What, pray tell, do you want to do with this beautiful item?”

“I require a wand,” I tell him. “One with braided bronze and iron, with the opal mounted at the bottom.”

He grabs a soft cloth and wraps the opal in it, then ambles over to a small chest in the corner of his station, pulling a key from his belt. “My finest and purest ingots are kept in here,” he tells me over his shoulder. “And an opal of that quality deserves nothing but the finest I can manage.”

He pulls out three small ingots, one of them larger than the other two. He holds up the smaller two. “Copper and tin for the bronze,” he says, then picks up the third one. “And the finest iron I have.”

He pauses for a moment, then shuffles back over to his small chest. He pulls out a litany of keys, opening smaller and smaller compartments within the chest, going impossibly further into the chest than its small size conveys.

And then he pulls out an ingot of a pale white color, and sets it down gently next to the other three. “However, I would wonder - this is likely the only time I’ll be able to create a wand with this metal I was given a long time ago, and I fear I will never come across another chance as this.”

“What is that?” I ask.

“‘Tis Mazaska, a rare metal found only on the Golden Sea.”

“That is across the world, old dwarf,” I state, semi-disbelief in my voice. “How in the Grandmothers’ name did you get it here?”

“A rare find, as I said,” the smith’s eye twinkles. “But I would be willing to add this metal to your wand’s braid. You’ve got two sturdy metals, neither of which are common in wandmaking, and I offer a third metal, deeply entrenched in magical history, to give the wand a bit of oomph.”

I smile, reaching into my robes. “How much, durka?” I ask him, using the Dwarven word meaning excellent salesman. It’s a term used among dwarves to tell a salesman that they know they’re being sold, but that it worked.

The old dwarf grins. “Altogether, I’d say… three hundred gold and I can have the wand finished tomorrow. Potentially.”

“Potentially?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Depends on how easy the mazaska is to braid with the bronze and iron. Could be tomorrow. Might take another day.”

I nod in understanding. Great things do tend to take time, and this is to be one of the greatest he’s ever undertaken. “Shall I return at dusk tomorrow, then?”

Ulfgar pauses, thinking for a few moments, then nods in agreement. “Aye. If I don’t have it done by tomorrow dusk, I will know without a doubt how much longer I’ll require, milday.”

I nod my head slowly, then grab a smaller coinpurse from within a sleeve. I lightly toss it onto his desk. He gives it a wary glance, looking up at me.

“A few gold for a few questions, coinbeard,” I say quietly. “I see what you are, though it’s clear Grimelda does not.”

His hand instinctively goes to his beard, an intricate and immaculate braid. It varies in only the smallest of details from the beard of any veteran or elder dwarf.

But I recognize dwarven customs as much as humans; I lived amongst the Southern dwarves for nearly three decades, learning their language and trade to win their merchants to my business. And the dwarves have their own quiet codes to talk to each other without words.

Ulfgar’s beard twists right instead of left, and a single gold coin has been cleverly hidden near his chin. Essentially impossible to see for anyone unaware or not explicitly looking, Ulfgar bears the mark of a coinbeard.

“Aye, what of it, seanmhathair?”

I smile, but tense inwardly. Dwarven riddle speech is infamous.

“I heard long tales of the darkest corners, but seek a way to the hearth’s letterbox.”

He strokes his beard, thinking for a moment before responding. “The letterbox with the eyes lies as dead. They cannot disturb a corpse, for there are none to disturb. To add a corpse, they would celebrate.”

“Where lies the nearest grave?”

“A casket lay empty two rows behind the crown of guests.”

I think on that for a moment, then blink as the answer hits me. “Thank you, coinbeard. May the deeps guide you, and I’ll be back tomorrow eve for an update.”

I give him a respectful nod of my head, and he returns the gesture, whispering seanmhathair as he does. Given the dwarven understanding of age, I’m guessing he calls me grandmother as Grimelda called me babushka.

I toddle back slowly towards my buggy, taking in the sights of the guildhall. I see a calligrapher working alongside a pair of scribes, putting their work to artistry as much as history. Just a few feet from them, four workspaces are dominated by a small group of dwarven stonecutters, having combined their areas to work better on a large project. A small glazier with the appearance of a gnome darts in and out of them, measuring against their work for various glass applications.

I smile to myself. This guildhall really does have just about everything one could need, just piled up in one.

Returning to my buggy, I give Slate and Smoke a mental image of the outskirts of the city - the smell of the forest, the scent of rabbit. I lay back as they eagerly begin walking, sometimes agreeing on the path, sometimes trying to go in two separate directions.

Chapter Two

Eventually, we arrive at a city gate. To my surprise, not only is it not guarded, but it’s wide open. I sit up, looking around intensely as Slate and Smoke eagerly walk by.

I send them a sign to stop, and the buggy abruptly lurches to a halt. I stand up, putting my staff on the ground and leaning against it. I close my eyes, throwing my senses entirely into both Slate and Smoke.

Their jumbled thoughts momentarily overwhelm me - hunt, food, sister, sister, mother, love, cool air, strong scents - but manage to stem the tide of thoughts. I do not take control from them, but merely sit within their heads with them, seeking out everything I can.

I sense both sisters open their mouths, allowing the air to flow past their noses and mouths as they taste for the scent of any recent person near here.

Stale, old, stagnant, empty.

No guards. I retreat from their senses back into my own body, looking around. Something feels off, but for now, at least, I can use this to my advantage.

Go forth, look for tracks of persons. I send a simple command to the sister lions, and they continue their trot forward, this time with their noses to the ground and their mouths open to taste the air.

We travel a ways into the woods, until no sign of the city gates can be seen behind us. I get up, shrugging, then wave my hand. The harnesses from both lionesses vanish, and the two of them flex their backs and shake their heads, growling happily as they’re given freedom to hunt.

I say nothing, and the two of them vanish into the undergrowth, searching for food.

Alarm, I call out. It’s a common command for them.

I, on the other hand, am relieved to be out of the city. With a few hours left until sunset, we can bide our time out here for now. With a snap of my fingers, my traveling robes swirl and coalesce for a moment before reforming as my favorite set of purple robes - my twilight robes.

I straighten my pointed hat, enjoying the feel of it on my hair again. With a wide brim, it keeps the weather off me, and the tallness within the point ensures no heat build up can make me too warm.

I snap my fingers and my Tome of Dusk appears next to me, wide open with a quill at the ready. It floats aloft at perfect reading height, held by my magic.

I open my buggy’s seat, revealing my chest. I push a button on the buggy’s armrest, then pop open the chest with a click.

Carefully, I step into the chest, descending down a long, shallow staircase into the depths of a stone hallway.

My portable study has two rooms - the smaller, easier to access one where I can keep a small array of useful things held, and the larger, much deeper temple.

Here, at the bottom of the chest, I’ve been teaching myself the ways I’d nearly forgotten. Ages ago, when I was still young, I began my way down the path of the witch - my Tome of Dusk is the symbol of that path.

But I’d never continued down the path, going only a few steps before business became my main draw. Now here, in my twilight years, I felt the need to pick up the Tome again, and to my suprise, I am good at it.

I walk aimlessly along the library shelves, my hand trailing along it as I think of all the books I’ve read down here. Not all of them academic, this is my personal collection, more so than even the massive one that dominates my home.

The home I will likely never return to.

I sigh as I think about it. I left everything at home in place, as though I intended to return. I even gave my brother and his family a rough date of when to expect me again… though I don’t think they believed me.

I think they understood that when I left, I would not be returning. I had spent weeks filling my chest with everything from home I might need, and now, here it is.

Lifetimes’ worth of knowledge amassed. Countless numbers of knick-knacks to remind me of my past. Paintings of my family adorn the walls, so large they had to be created down here by the artists who were paid extensively to never mention a word of this place.

I toddle along the outer walls, recounting my adventures in business - a necklace of gold and gemstones aplenty, worth the fortune of a small kingdom. It was given to me as a birthday present from the Pharoah of Ahut-Ra, both a thanks and a threat about the fact that I was capable of single-handedly able to arrange for an armistice between the Heaven’s Zealots and Eldrath, both of which were vying for his throat.

And then the Heaven’s Zealots turned on Eldrath, and the country no longer exists… it troubles me that a religious order was so capable of easily wiping out a nation that angered them, but much more so that it disrupted my northern trade routes so extensively that trade between two halves of the world was nearly cut off entirely.

But Brightvale saved that. For better or worse, I’m not sure.

I shake my head of nostalgia, turning to my workbench. On it, three items lay ready for me; An icicle that refuses to melt, a small bag of a black powdery substance that I believe the easterners call… black powder, and a small statue of a nondescript humanoid.

I haven’t seen these pieces since I left home. I have never woven magic of this variety before, and my ability may not be great enough to accomplish it. Nevertheless, I will attempt to try.

But not today.

I elect to simply practice, grasping the icicle in my hands. Ignoring the cold pains against my old hands, I concentrated on my Tome, willing it to write.

Nothing happens.

I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling of the cold burning my hands. I focus on the way it feels, the way it makes me shiver.

And then I hear it - the quill scratching on the parchment of my Tome.

The delight fills my heart and warms my hands for me as I let go of the icicle, eagerly looking into my Tome, to see what it has recorded for me.

As I watch, the quill only writes a few words - cold, frozen blue, from the deep north - but then begins to draw a picture of the icicle. Over the course of a minute, it recreates the icicle in perfection, in a way that seems almost…

I freeze, then look at the icicle again, then back at the picture.

I duck my head, peering at the open book at eye level. I can see small wisps of cold air emanating off the picture in the book.

Awestruck, I slowly put a trembling hand out to the icicle - then immediately pull back, because the drawn picture is colder than the icicle itself. It is colder in ways I could never describe. Just the air coming off it is already making the icicle itself feel like a cheery hearth by comparison.

And so I repeat the process two more times, with both the black powder pouch and the small statue. Just as with the icicle, the recreation within the Tome feels and looks like the real version of the item, while the item itself feels… almost empty, by comparison.

Human!

The alarm goes off in my head, and I throw myself into the sense of the lions; They feast on a deer they caught together, but their ears and noses perk up as the wind adjusts and they become overwhelmed with the smell of humans, smothered with wet leather and metal.

I take a deep breath, then imagine holding my traveling staff in my arms, arms deep in my sleeves. With a silent roar in my ears, I open my eyes and find myself standing by my buggy, my staff wrapped in my arms. I lean heavily on it, sending out the call to the two lions to come back.

A moment later, I hear the undergrowth shuffle. Slate leads, dragging half a corpse with her. A moment later, Smoke follows holding the back half of the corpse.

I curse inwardly. They carry no deer, but a prize elk, dressed in warms and with antlers done up with decorations of all sorts.

I carry no ill burden to the two lions, however - they are predators, and they do not distinguish between pet and prey. They have no way to.

I beckon them to my side, then shuffle around in my sleeves for a few moments. A hand wraps around a coin purse in a hidden pocket, and I take a deep breath.

Latching my chest and locking it tightly, I lay back on my buggy and relax, waiting for the humans to walk closer. My mind is in the senses of the twins as I do, using their hearing and smell to keep track of how far away the humans are.

After a long few minutes, I open my eyes and look to my left. A moment later, a farmer walks through the trees, his spear held aloft. I can see the terror in his eyes, and his fear has made him one-track minded. He does not spot me.

I give him another moment, letting him walk further into the open before clearing my throat.

He spins around, his eyes wide. A moment later, whom I can only presume to be his daughter leaps out behind him, a crossbow raised and leveled at me. Her hands tremble. She does not have the look of a killer about her.

I stand, leaning heavily on my staff but holding my hands up high, palms out. “I am Betty-Joyce, and I am new to these parts. I do fear my lionesses have eaten an elk of yours, and for that, I am truly sorry. I was unaware I was near a elk herder, and I would have taken far more precaution on letting them loose to hunt had I known.”

The man’s eyes narrow as he stares me down. His voice is gruff, and he doesn’t share the fear of his daughter. “Ye cost me half a harvest’s coin with the loss of our prize stag, old hag. How do ye think ye will pay this off?”

I look at his daughter, raising an eyebrow. “Would you mind putting that down, please, grandchild? I have no interest in being skewered tonight.”

She looks at her father, who looks back at her. His spear still pointing at her, he nods at her and she lowers her crossbow.

“Thank you, dear. Now tell me,” I step forward, letting the purple of my shadow and robes float into my words. “How much is that prize elk worth?”

“Two- er, three hundred fifty gold,” the old man trips over his words. I size him up as he stumbles. His eyes are flicking from side to side, and I can tell he’s lying. The elk was worth one fifty at most.

“How many elk do you own?” I ask sweetly.

“We’re one of the largest suppliers of elk in the area,” the girl answers in his stead. “We have several hundred in the herd here, then three more herds further outside into the whitewood forest, each thrice the size of this one.”

“Aye,” the old man agrees. He holds my gaze firmly. “An’ the prize elk, such as the one yer lions ate, are worth enough to cover the cost of food for the herds for half the winter on their own. T’the right buyer, those bulls are how we make it through the winter.”

“What were you going to use the money from that sale for?”

He hesitates, but she takes the moment to answer herself. “We had a buyer lined up from Elderglow Keep, as the Queen herself is in need of fine steeds for her personal guard.”

“And how much were they to pay for the bull?”

“Two hundred fifty gold.”

I pause and think on this for a moment. “Did you sign a contract for this agreement and price?”

“Yes.”

In a single motion, I toss the bag of coin I’d held in my hand since I heard them coming. “Four hundred fifty gold. Enough to cover the cost of the elk, and more still to cover the cost of reneging on the contract.”

The girl nearly drops her crossbow in her attempt to catch it, and I notice with some amusement that the thing isn’t even loaded. Nor does she carry any bolts with her.

“If your reputation as herders of fine elk should suffer for this, come see me. My name is Betty-Joyce, and I have a feeling I will be needing your services to an extensive amount by this time next week.”

The old man loosens up, standing as straight as his crooked back would let him as he lets his spear drop. I let the magic drop from my voice as I continue.

“You two should be familiar with the area. I have seen only rough maps of Arands, for no quality ones have been made freely available. What roads lead from Brightvale, and to where do they lead?”

The old man cocks his head as he looks at me, but gives a straightforward answer. “The Bright Road leads north, to the bridge at the River Frost, where it divides into three. The White Road leads west, into the whitewood forests. The Quiet Road leads east, though not much can be found along it.”

“Where does the White Road lead?”

The old man shrugs. “Into the whitewood forests. Unless you’re going there for a specific reason, there’s not much there.”

“Then the Bright Road sounds most promising. What lies at the River Frost?”

“A small, but heavily walled village, lay a little ways off from the fork. The people there often buy our elk through the winter, but we also supply them with a few heavy draft animals for their summers.”

“Why so often?”

“Animals get traded for food, wood, or they are slaughtered to survive the winter. They may also die defending the village. Pirates are fond of attacking the Bright Road, and not much can be done about it.”

“Why not?”

The girl interjects again, with some contempt in her voice as she puts her crossbow against her hip. “The Queen can’t afford to levy an army to defend it.” The girl’s voice is almost a sneer as she talks about the queen. “Elderglow Keep can barely defend itself, let alone the towns near it or, grandmothers’ forbid, a random village in the hills.”

“Forgive her,” the old man says quickly. “My wife - her mother - was lost in a pirate raid on Annabrekka, the very village that sits on the Bright Road. Our business used to be based out of there, but when the raids got too much, we moved our operations to here, just outside Brightvale.”

I reach into my robe again, then toss another small bag of coins at the old man. “An extra hundred for your woes, child. Come find me at the Crown Jewels in a week, and I may have work for you. And again, I do apologize for the actions of my two lions.”

“How in the world did an old woman like you come into possession of two lions, anyway?” The girl asks, curiosity in her voice. “I’ve never seen a white one before, let alone a pair of identical ones.”

“That, my dear grandchild, is a story for another time. Remind me again when we are gathered around a warm fire and feasting, and I will regale you with the whole tale of how these two became lions.”

The child’s eyes are nearly bulging out of her head as I talk, and I smile inwardly. Everyone loves the story of Slate and Smoke.

“Then in a weeks’ time, I will see you two again.”

The two give me a nod before disappearing into the undergrowth again.

I wait until the two of them are gone, sitting back down on my buggy. For nearly an hour, I watch in bored fascination as the two lions systematically eat every edible part of the elk, then crunch on the remaining bones. When they finish, I send a note to them to find the nearest stream to wash up in.

When they return, they are amicable to being harnessed, and I send them a note to return to the Crown Jewels. They can sniff our path back, leading us back to where we once were.

I kick back, relaxing, as I think about what could be waiting for us at the Crown Jewels. If the innkeep was as good a businesswoman as she appeared, then a bit of her best set aside for me could be expected.

The trip through town is uneventful. A few people look terrified at Slate and Smoke, but ultimately, a pair of harnessed lions don’t cause much issue. Give it a day, and the people will be asking to pet the giant cats.

Slate and Smoke look forward to that. They are not dangerous, and they love the attention.

Chapter Three

We arrive back at the Crown Jewels and enter the front doors without much overture. Conversation dims as the two lionesses enter the double doors, but not nearly so much as the first time we came in. I suspect by tomorrow, the regulars will have stopped caring.

With the sudden attention Brightvale has, it wouldn’t surprise me if the locals here are beginning to see a lot of the world they never have before, and are quickly starting to wonder if they want to see the world when it’s so different from them.

It is, after all, a fairly common sentiment when small towns become important.

“Ah,” the dragonborn behind the counter says as I approach. “You have returned.”

“I have,” I confirm with a nod as my buggy pulls up to the bar. “What of my accommodations?”

Grenska points to the far side of the inn. “There be three guards waiting for you. Hand-picked them myself. Dancing Grass, Xoco, and Xia. They refuse to work alone, so you’ll have all three every day, but they don’t ask for more pay. They ask twenty five gold a day, either paid per day or seventy five up front, outside what I gave them of the purse you gave me. They aren’t picky, but they also aren’t cheap.”

The dragonborn matron leans over the counter, her voice lowering as she talks. “They’re some of the best the city has, as far as protection goes. Give them a little extra, and they’ll be able to give you information on just about any part of town. They have informants in every possible nook and cranny you could think of in this city.”

“Ah,” I say, smiling broadly. “You did all I asked for and then some. Here,” I pull out another bag of coins from my pocket. “Another hundred gold.”

Grenska smiles as she accepts the coin purse, then pulls a bottle from under the bar. “And lastly, I pulled some of my best stock from the back. It’s blackberry liqueur, best served over ice in the evening, but it also mixes well with spiced tea in the cold nights. The bottle itself is enchanted to remain cold at all times, so keep the bottle even when you finish the liqueur.”

Grenska pops the tab and pours me a small glass on the rocks, pushing it to me. I accept with a grin. I do love me a good drink at the end of the day, and a fruity drink will always be my favorite.

Except on a frozen winter night, which is starting to feel more and more likely here in the frosty north.

The liqueur is exquisite. I inform Grenska of this, and she smiles. I further compare it to the drinks I’ve had in the company of emperors and kings, and decide that her liqueur tops them all.

“Something about the alpine air,” she says with a secretive smile. “It makes every liquor better.”

I thank her, nestling the bottle on the seat next to me. The coolness feels lovely against my aching hip, and I sorely look forward to a bath.

I direct Slate and Smoke to the corner, where Grenska had pointed. Sitting in a sunken corner booth, getting more than a little handsy with each other, I find the three guards she had located for me.

“And who be you, old grandmother?” The middle one looks at me as the two young men on either side of him cuddle up to him.

“I be Betty-Joyce, the benefactor come to hire you,” I tell him with an amused smile. “If you’d three would have the time to be hired, that is.”

The lighter skinned one on the left grows pink in his face, with his flat features and pointed eyes flushing as he subtly moves away from the other two. They, on the other hand, pay no heed to my words.

“How will you pay us?” Demands the middle one again. “And what will our duties be?”

“I will expect a guard when I travel the city, from mid-morning till sundown. At sundown, I will require assistance drawing a bath and ensuring Slate and Smoke,” I gesture to my twin lions, “are fed. Aside from that, information is all I’ll require.”

The middle one frowns. “Is that it?”

I smile, feigning surprise. “Well, yes. I’m a traveling merchant, not a noble lady. I don’t require your assistance around the clock.”

He pulls both his companions closer to him. “You won’t request… late night activities?”

I laugh, unsurprised. “No, I will not. I do not like men.”

He smiles, obvious relief in his face. “If you need us to find a young woman for you, we can.”

I shake my head at them, chuckling softly. “Nay, that won’t be necessary. I do not wish for a late night companion.”

His face fills with surprise, and a slight bit of wonder. “None… at all?”

“None.” I confirm. “I will never and have never requested it.”

The one on the left speaks up. “How long did you say you’d need guard?”

“Three days, to start. After that, we shall see. I hope to look for a more…” I choose my words carefully as I talk to the young throuple. “A more permanent solution to my needs, but that depends on what I can find here in Brightvale in the next few days.”

The middle one leans forward, taking his arms off his two companions and resting his chin on them. He looks at me, his eyes bright. “So what I’m hearing is there might be a need for a permanent guard position at the end of the three days?”

I smile at him. “I will say nothing more until we are safe from prying ears.” In a single motion, I snap a coin into the air behind me. A quick yowch follows up, and I turn in time to see a dwarf man hustling into the crowds of the inn. “I know not who he works for, but he’s been following me since I entered the inn.”

The right one speaks up, his voice soft and whispery. “Clan Copperhead, works directly for the General. Intelligence gathering. You’ve made an impact in the day you’ve been here, and the dwarves are going to be interested.”

“How did you know all that?”

He just snorts, offering no words.

The center one nudges the other two, then stands at the table. “To your suite. You rented the Gemstone, correct?”

I nod.

“Follow me.”

He nimbly wiggles out from the table, past his two companions, walking past Slate and Smoke with no noticeable fear. He heads out the front door of the inn, and the twin cats follow him at a brisk pace.

He leads us behind the inn, down a covered alleyway with a few food stalls set up. He nods to them, calling out greetings to each stall by name and inquiring about life. Each one, I notice, greets him with genuine enthusiasm. I note that at least two call him over and offer him and his two companions food, asking nothing in return.

It takes a closer look to realize that the food is not just food, and that things other than food are exchanging hands.

Grenska was right. These three are well-informed about the goings-on of the city.

We approach the end of the alleyway, coming to a T with another alley. Directly in front of us, a grand door is labeled simply “the Gemstone”. To the left, the shops continue, but to the right, the alley turns dark and my old eyes discern nothing in the evening light.

He pulls out a key, unlocking the Gemstone gates. The lighter skinned companion walks forward and helps him push the heavy gates open, creaking as they go. The third companion stares into the dark alley, studying something only he can see.

“Here we are!” The first one calls out to me from within. I nudge Slate and Smoke with my mind, pushing them forward, and we enter the courtyard.

A covered area has been prepared with a choice selection of heavy mats and canvas, and two troughs are next to it - one filled with water, the other empty. I assume it would normally be filled with food.

The courtyard is wide, and comfortable. The air is still, and the lively sounds of the city are drastically muted as the three push the gates closed behind us and lower a privacy shade over them. I stand, walking into the main room of the suite.

“So what are your names?” I ask as I inspect the main gathering room. There’s a few couches and lounge chairs in here, with a central dining table that looks to seat fifteen or so.

“I am Xoco,” the main one says.

“The mouth for the group,” I say with a smile.

He snorts, glancing at his two companions. The lighter one cracks a warm smile, while the other only hints at amusement in his eyes.

“The elf is Xia, and the shirtless one is Dancing Grass.”

“Wood elf and Chanoti, working alongside a Dryad? What a combination, but I see how you three were pulled together.”

Xoco’s eyes widen, and his mouth moves as he tries to say something. Nothing comes out.

“Oh, grandchild, I’m far older than I look and with much more magic than you’ve ever seen. I did not hire you as guards, I doubt there is a person in this city who could harm me. I hired you three for information. That is worth far more than any amount of gold I could throw at you.”

“How did you recognize us? And what experience do you have with our kind?” The quiet one speaks.

“I do,” I confirm. “I spent about a decade dismantling the wooden throne of the wood elves, and another two with the dryads of the Uhala forest to manage its trade with its neighbors.”

“And how do you know the Chanoti?” His voice is quiet, almost silent.

“The Chanoti can be found all over. I recognized your gait.”

“My gait?”

You walk with the grace of a predator stalking its prey, yet with the lightness of a feather on the wind," I reply. "It's a distinctive trait of your people."

Dancing Grass finally breaks his silence with a silent smile. "Well, you certainly have a keen eye, grandmother."

I smile at the trio, feeling a sense of camaraderie forming between us. "Now, shall we discuss the information I seek? I am particularly interested in any recent developments within the city, especially those involving the Queen and the location of a nearby dead drop."

Xoco nods thoughtfully. "We might have a few leads for you, but it will take some time to gather everything. We'll need to make some, ahh… quiet inquiries."

"Take all the time you need," I assure them. "In the meantime, why don't you make yourselves comfortable here in the Gemstone? I assume the kitchens are full, and I’d like to know what else lay about here on the grounds."

The three of them nod, and Dancing Grass in particular seems drawn to the kitchens. I toddle back outside, leaning on my staff heavily, watching as Xoco begins investigating the west wing of the Gemstone. I saw Xia head towards the east wing, but lost sight of him nearly immediately after dismissing them.

Damn wood elves. No doubt he’s watching me now.

I grimace. I’ll just have to indulge him when I return and he’s filled with questions. For now, it’ll be enough to keep Xoco and Dancing Grass occupied.

I make my way back to the buggy, hidden in the stables. With a quick push of a button, the seat and chest spring open. I take a deep breath, and with uncharacteristic agility, I leap upwards and fall feet-first into the chest.

Chapter Four

I land on my feet with a meaty fist on the stone beneath me. I stand, sighing as the decades of age and grime slide off my body, and my staff shrinks until it is little more than a wand I conceal cleverly in my sleeve.

I glance up, out the small opening of the chest above me. I can see Slate lazily watching from above, peeking downwards, and I wave at her. She licks her chops, then vanishes again.

The illusion of my human self has slid off with a bit more difficulty than normal. I haven’t played the part of the dwarf in a long while, but he fits over my wooden body as easily as he ever did.

I fidget, though. This particular visage has never fit right. It’s too short, too wide, too heavy-set. I prefer the taller frame of a dryad or a human. It’s never been my strength to be so low, or inflexible.

I stare at my new form in the nearby mirror, placed here exactly for this purpose. My beard scratches my face, a long trail of braided flame-red hair that matches the hair that seems to be everywhere except my head. A basic tunic is overlain with the apron of a barkeep, and I poke my arms as I notice less muscle and more pudge than anything. Clad in dark greys and blacks, this form won’t be given a second glance by any.

I shuffle around the small room, locating a small box I had placed here months before. Handcrafted by the dryads of the Uhalu forest as a thank you, the box is worth a small fortune on its own. I tap it twice with my wand, and am pleased as I hear a series of clicks and whirs from within - it is a puzzle box, one that any common thief would find impossible to break.

But if the organized thieves around here are worth their salt, they’ll have a few exceptional hands to get this thing open without breaking it. If the box is broken, it destroys its contents.

Setting up a quick wax melter, I wave my hand, conjuring my tome from the depths of nowhere that it typically hides. I think for a moment as it hovers in front of me, then watch as the quill writes down my intentions.

Dearest Guild of Takers

You know not who I am, but you will soon enough. I am a prospective merchantwoman, wealthier than any you’ve seen sail through these docks yet. While trade has increased through this here city of Brightvale, no true merchants of my calibre have set foot here…  until me.

I am here to establish proper trade with Brightvale and the rest of the world. I would like to be the first to establish a proper route through here, as I am preferable to the cow that is Lady Milenna or the ungrateful sod, Ser Charlagnon. Both would come to you with a similar question, but neither would pay you fair, nor treat you kind. Both would sooner squash your guild under their thumb and think nothing of it, were you to not cave to their demands immediately.

I disagree with their methods. I would rather see you flourish. I am not born of noble stock - I was born the daughter of a cobbler and a slave, raised in a wretched city that no longer exists. I know your struggles. I would sooner help you and help elevate the lower class of this city to have the political power of the nobles. I can bring a level of prosperity to your guild that you’ve never known before, pilfering the coffers of the aristocracy to aide those who need it.

But make no mistake; I have and will undoubtedly again, crush guilds such as yours under my bootheel. I do not like to, but if you get in my way, I will ensure you never find work again.

This box is a dryad puzzle box, a gift to me from the Uhalu Assembly, a circle of powerful dryads. I brought trade to their kingdom and kept their forests from being destroyed by zealous warriors. Bring this box and note to me at the hour of midnight. I will buy this box from you for twenty thousand gold, no questions asked, and ask that you stay to discuss business further.

With Love

Betty-Joyce, current resident of the Gemstone

I sit back, reading my note thrice over before finding it satisfactory. I tear it out of the tome, rolling it up neatly. With a quick pour from the now-melted wax, I stamp it with my personal seal - a mace and a wand, crossed as an X. I sigh as I do, smiling sadly.

The seal was designed by my younger sister and I. Estelle-Mae had earned her right to be my business partner, and she wanted to be represented on the seal. I obliged, as her adventuring pursuits with the same group I had joined and left, had given my business great leaps and bounds ahead of others around me.

But she is long gone, vanished on a quest many decades hence. I still use our seal, and someday I will have a copy of her mace forged.

I blow on the wax gently, cooling it as it sets, then carefully put it within the puzzle box. Once inside, I tuck it within my apron, then open the tome to another empty page. I write once more.

The Gemstone has a new guest. She is a wealthy old woman. An unassuming box sits on the balcony windowsill, a candle next to it. Grab the box. It’s worth a fortune. Bring it to the high fence - None other will be able to assess it. Do not break the box!

I make it quick and short, tearing off the excess parchment and rolling it tightly. I do not seal this one with wax, but simply tie it with twine, ensuring it stays shut.

With that, I walk over to the chest, where Smoke is now looking down. I call to her softly, and she moves aside as I climb up the ladder. My dwarf shoulders barely fit through the opening, but I manage nonetheless.

I concentrate for a moment as I carefully hide the box amongst the paws of the now-sleeping Smoke. She will not move. She sleeps like a rock.

On the edge of my senses, I can feel the presence of Xia watching me. I was not wrong - he is perched low on the roof of the villa, and I sense curiosity in his mind.

No matter. If these three are to be trusted, he will need to learn that I get up to activities of my own.

I make a bold move, reaching directly into his mind; Let me know if any follow me through the alleyway.

His surprise is audible, as a roof tile clinks as he dislodges it. I wait for a moment, but no more noise is to be had.

I leave out the side gate, a small thing that opens directly into the dark alleyway to the right of the main gate. I do not pause, but simply walk forward at a slow pace, my hand trailing on the stone wall beside me.

I tap gently on the stones as I go, remembering idly my dwarven training. The body has its own reactions, and I feel my arms react to the soft sound of the hollow brick before I realize what I’ve found.

It’s only a few feet down from the gate. I curse inwardly. This is an odd placement for a dead drop, but I’m not familiar enough with the locals to know if it’s a true dead drop or if it’s the decoy.

I reach out to Xia’s mind again, asking if he knows the dead drops here.

I am no thief, he responds. But yes, that is the correct dead drop.

I snort. I expected to have to walk for a few blocks or more to find it, not merely feet from my own door. The disguise suddenly feels over the top, and I begin to wonder if I’ve overestimated the ability of the local thieves.

I slip the tightly twined note into the dead drop and turn back into the Gemstone.

I hear as Xia falls softly to the ground beside me, falling in-step with me.

“Who are you?” He asks softly. “And why did you hire us?”

“Information,” I say again, my gruff voice deep. “You know the locals. I do not. And if you’re half as well-connected as you appear, you’ll be more of an asset to my business here than even the Queen, if I can find her.”

“Nobody we know has ever met the Queen,” he says softly, stopping a distance aways as I walk up to the lions. “But she doesn’t live in Brightvale. She lives in the Elderglow Keep, a valley fortress about a month’s travel north of here.”

I turn and look at him as I pick up Slate’s paw to grab the box. “The largest city in the north, and your Queen doesn’t live here?” My voice is surprised. “This is suddenly the most economically important city, this side of Xulon, and your Queen… doesn’t live here?”

He shakes his head, walking in step with me as I grab the box and head back towards the Gemstone’s main entryway. “No. The Lady Brightvale is Morwenna Solas, or just Lady Morwenna. She’s a kind soul, but young by every standard.”

“How young?”

“Four years an adult this past month. She’s younger than all three of us.”

I nod slowly as he speaks. “So how difficult would it be to get a meeting with the Lady Brightvale?”

He snorts, the first audible thing he’s done since I met him. “Why would you? She doesn’t run anything around here. She’s too young, nobody listens to her.”

“Then who leads the city?” I turn and look at him as I reach the stairs up to the grand bedroom, a bit confused.

He shrugs. “That’s one of the issues here. With all the sudden trade, nobody seems to have direct control of anything anymore. Too much happening, far too quickly. The Lady was respected when she succeeded her father as the city’s governess, but with the sudden influx of trading, nobody knows who to go to for anything.”

I think on this as we walk up the stairs. A city of chaos, with no true leader… this is either my worst nightmare or my best daydream, but I can’t tell which.

“How about this, as a hypothetical - What would it take to buy a house around here? Who do I go to for property management?”

He chuckles at that. “The Council would technically handle that, but with the recent assassination of Elder Frithan, nobody’s quite sure. There are only three Elders on the Council to start with, and Frithan had nobody to replace him - he was expected to serve another twenty years, minimum. When he died, Urfgald went missing and Garrick now leads on his own, trying to do the duties of all three while trying to find someone to replace his missing fellow Elders.”

“I see…” I say, scratching thoughtfully at my itchy beard. “So the city has a power vacuum, nobody to fill it, and lacks direction in the meantime.”

I pause for a moment to set up the box on the windowsill, putting a candle next to it. I open the windows wide, murmuring a small enchantment on the candle as I do - no wind will blow it out, but it will snuff itself exactly three minutes after the box has been taken, informing me of when it has happened.

“So tell me - actually, hold on, I can’t abide this body any further. The beard is killing me.” I hold up a hand to him, then concentrate for a moment. A cold wind rushes over me, and I hear a few pillows scatter as I dispel the illusion.

“That’s better,” I say, back in the human body of Betty-Joyce. I fix my purple robes and straighten my pointed hat, enjoying the wide brim as it settles on my frizzled white hair.

“So tell me, young wood elf,” I say again. “Who are the people in town of unofficial power?”

“You met the main one already,” he says with an air of nonchalance. “Grenska Firewalker, owner of the Crown Jewels.”

“Oh?” I say, taken aback. “Typically those with power don’t work their businesses themselves. That’s… unusual.”

He gives me a look. “I’m starting to think things in the south are way more complicated than they need to be.”

“Have you never been?”

“Never,” he confirms. “I was born in Moon’s Rest, raised in Hearthfire. I came here when I met Xoco, and we met Dancing Grass when we arrived. Been here ever since.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About a decade hence, give or take.”

“You three are cute, you know that?”

He blushes. “Thank you, grandmother.”

I smile broadly at him, then gesture to follow me as I walk back downstairs. To my surprise, Dancing Grass and Xoco are waiting for us.

“Xia summoned us,” Xoco says, his eyebrow raised. Dancing Grass says nothing, and bites into an apple.

“What for?” I ask. I can guess, but I’d rather hear it from Xia. I turn to look at him.

He shrugs apologetically. “You used magic. Powerful magic. We have a pact to inform each other when our charges use it. Typically it’s because our charge is going to try and force us to do something, so it’s for our safety. But in your case… it’s a curiosity.”

“So what’d you do,” Dancing Grass doesn’t frame it as a question.

I give them a slight nod and a smile. “Xia is correct. I am a powerful weaver. I would not be able to run my business without it.”

“Such as…?” Xoco’s eyebrow remains raised. I can sense his skepticism.

“I am experienced at enchantments, but I can do no more. I cannot force you to do anything, nor could I make you believe something. I can, however, fool your senses into believing something is other than it is.”

“That sounds… useful for a thief,” Xoco says slowly. “Xia says you went out the side gate. Would I be correct in assuming you discovered the dead drop there?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

“The Eyes are going to be curious about that,” Dancing Grass says dryly. “An old woman, new to town, handling their dead drop.”

“I did not go as an old woman,” I state with a smile. “I disguised myself as a dwarven man, in the clothes of a barkeep. I looked no different than the dwarves I saw around town today.”

“Oh?” Dancing Grass’s voice is disbelieving. “Can you show us?”

“I cannot alter my appearance on a whim, other than dispelling an illusion. Setting one up requires work within my buggy, and is more tiring to do than I’d like to admit. Take Xia’s word for now, and the next time I need change my appearance, I will remember to summon you three to show you how it works.”

“And what did you leave at the dead drop, then?” Xia asks from behind me. “I knew you went, but you never clarified as to why.”

“Oh, that’s easy. I needed to put a hit on myself.”

“Whatever for?” Xoco is confused.

I give him a mischievous grin. “There is a box on my windowsill in the room above. I put the hit on that box, stating it was invaluable, albeit fragile. When the guild opens the box, if they’re worth their salt, they’ll receive a message from me. The message tells them to work with me and trust me, or I’ll find them and crush them with competition if they refuse.”

“Oh, they’ll love that,” Dancing Grass says. “The Eyes are undergoing a bit of a… rough time. Many of their fences can’t keep up, and their smugglers lack the influence to get goods into Low Docks anymore. We were going to try and help them, but most of what the Eyes lack is simply funds.”

“Then I picked the right dead drop to coerce,” I say with a not small amount of glee. “How often are the dead drops checked?”

Dancing Grass shrugs. “More likely than not, they had an alarm that alerted them to the dead drop being handled. They’ll undoubtedly have read the hit by now, all that really matters is who they send and how long it’ll take them to get here.”

Xoco helpfully adds, “and they’ll likely send a rookie. The Gemstone isn’t known for its security detail, and they’ve no way to know we’re your guard. We’ll keep an eye out, and pretend not to see the rookie, if you’d like.”

I nod. “That would be best. The quicker it gets back, the better. They’ve instructions to bring the box back here, and that I’ll buy it back from them at a steeply inflated price. It should be enough gold to make a difference to their immediate problems, and then I can work with whoever they send to discuss about further working with them.”

“They’ll send Elysia,” Dancing Grass says immediately. “She’ll bring a guard of about four to try and secure the grounds when she gets here.”

“Between you three and the lions, that won’t be a problem. Let them pretend they’re in charge unless Elysia tries something funny. Then grab and tie them up as quietly as possible and deliver them upstairs. I’ll meet Elysia here, in the meeting room.”

“Excuse me… did you say the lions would help?” Xoco is confused.

“Yes.”

“Er. How?”

“Remember when I said I excel at making your senses believe you are seeing something entirely other than what you are?”

“But they’re… they’re… are they not lions?”

“They are not. Talk to them as you would any partner in security. They will listen. They will perform better than any you have ever worked with before.”

“So… what are they?”

I smile at him. “That is a story for another time. Ask me when we have a bonfire between us, and a feast to be had, and I will tell it to you.”

He nods slowly, side-eyeing me with doubt. I ignore him.

“For now, you three do need to fulfill your contracted duties.”

Xoco frowns, staring at me. “What do you mean?”

“I need a bath. If you’d be so kind, I saw the great stone basin in the next room over. If you could fill it with hot water, I’d appreciate it greatly.”

“Ah. Easy enough.” Xoco nods once, then gestures to his two lovers to follow.

Chapter Five

I toddle out to my buggy, thinking on the conversation. These three are filled with information - Xia knows most about the functions of the city, Dancing Grass seems most familiar with the underbelly, and Xoco knows the people. Between the three of them, it really is no surprise Grenska recommended them.

I’ll have to thank her. Likely by finding a way to put her in power. I’ll have to ask her about how she got to own the Crown Jewels. I’d guess that the previous owner left her the inn after their passing, given that she’s so good at the bar.

I pop open the small room again, holding out my hand. A small bag filled with various glass vials flies to my hand, and I grasp it firmly. I’d rather not lose my bathing supplies. These were expensive.

I give Smoke a good head scratching before returning to the meeting room, where I find the three young men gathered around the table, in light discussion. They have a mock layout of the house in front of them, each of them taking turns pointing out the weaknesses of the house and where they should each station each other. I watch for a moment in curiosity as they point out the many weak points of the house.

“Your bath is drawn,” Xoco says as he notices me, jabbing his thumb towards the next room. “Turns out Grenska’s got an automated water system in there, so all we had to do was hit a button. Must’ve been part of the Gemstone’s remodel last month, because we had no idea it was here.”

I nod thanks to them, keeping an ear on their words as they discuss. I walk around the broad bathing room, locking the door connecting it to the meeting room as well as the double doors that open to the villa’s east wing.

I dip my toes in the hot water, and sigh gratefully. The water temperature is perfect. I undress slowly, listening to the trio discuss amongst themselves in the next room as they discuss the merits of the Gemstone and the downsides.

As I ease into the water, I note that the three of them seem to have a burning hatred for the design of the Gemstone. By no means is it a fortress, of this I was aware, but they make it sound as though we’re lucky to have not been robbed blind already.

I listen closely as they decide on the places for the three of them to be prepared and ready. Overall, there’s any number of ways into the Gemstone from above as the villa is shorter in height than the buildings on all three sides of it. The trees and shrubbery meant to give the villa a sense of privacy from above unfortunately also serve to make coming in from above far too easy.

So rather than try and protect the entire perimeter, the three would rather protect the important parts and remove any objects from outside those locations.

A smart play, I would say. I’ll add an alarm enchantment, to let them know when and where the perimeter is breached. That alone might be enough.

As I listen, I realize that the strategy between these three is incredible. While the warmth makes me a little on the more tired side, I sit up suddenly as the ding from the candle upstairs rings around me.

I reach out to the mind of Xia and inform him that the box has been taken. I hear the table chairs move as the three of them jump to action.

I sigh, then stand, getting out of the water and slowly drying myself with a towel. I hear them moving around the Gemstone around me, moving furniture and items of value away from windows and doors, or boarding windows and locking doors where they can.

I don my clean set of dusk robes, with a different enchantment than my twilight robes. The dusk robes are what I wear to meetings of great importance; They are regal, and serve to make me look important.

I saunter from the bathroom slowly, leaning on my walking stick. I summon my tome with one hand, waving it through various pages until I find the page I search for.

I concentrate on the spell, pulling it from the pages. With an easy pulling motion, I grasp the spell and it erupts from the pages. A ball of purple energy radiates in front of me, casting the whole room in a deep amethyst glow.

Immediately, the trio burst from different doors, looking towards me with curiosity.

“Perfect,” I say. “I figured that’d bring you here. Come, put your hand in the weave before I cast it.”

Dancing Grass and Xoco step forward, but Xia hesitates. “What is it?” He asks, rightfully concerned.

“A tripwire weave,” I explain. “It’ll settle over the building, and if anyone who isn’t you three, me, or my lions walks over it, you will be informed of where and given an approximation of who it is in your mind.”

“That… that is extremely helpful.” Xoco is surprised. “Why didn’t you mention this when you walked through earlier?”

“Because I wanted to see what you three were capable of without magical help. I’d rather know you can do an excellent job without me than require my magic - which is neither reliable, nor powerful - to do your jobs. My magic is here to make your jobs easier, not do it for you.”

Xoco nods thoughtfully. Dancing Grass agrees, and the three of them stick their hand in the ball of light.

With a swift motion, I cast the spell, and a pale amethyst veil settles over everything. After a moment, it fades, but not entirely.

“How long will it last?” Xia asks with a frown. “I’d rather not be staring at this place with such a strange glow for the rest of time here.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “It’ll last a couple hours at most, then fade. My weaves are strong, but not indefinitely.”

“So when will Elysia be here?” Xoco asks.

I get up, moving towards the window. The moon is high in the sky, but not at its peak yet. “About an hour,” I estimate. “The note stated to be here at moon high with the box and note. Assuming they had someone on-hand who could crack the box without breaking it in time, at least.”

“Will your buggy be fine outside?” Xoco’s concern is touching.

“So long as Slate and Smoke are guarding it, it’d take more than a few thieves to take it from me. Just go wake them and tell them of the meeting.” I wave my hand dismissively towards Xoco.

“You want me to, uh, tell the lions about our plan?”

“Yes,” I say, a tad impatient. “They will understand everything you tell them. I promise.”

He gives me a look, but disappears dutifully out the front doors to the stable where the two lions lay napping.

“Now what?” Xia looks at me uncertainly.

“Go on,” I shoo them away. “You have stations to be at, I heard your plan with Xoco while I was in the bath. Tell Xoco to find his place, and I will wait by the gate.”

As the two of them disappear, I wave my hand and vanish my tome again. I lean heavily on my walking stick, heading towards the kitchen counter, where I had left my bottle of blackberry liqueur.

I grab a cup from the cupboard, pouring myself a generous glass of the delicious drink. I waste no time, downing it quickly.

I refill the glass, then pour another and return to the meeting table. I set the glass on the table at a spot nearest the door, then sit down a few chairs away from it, putting it between me and the doors.

As expected, the alarm from my spell goes off in my head as I sit down.

“Come in!” I call out, taking a sip of my blackberry.

The doors creak open slowly, then the fey woman reveals herself.

“You were expecting me?” She says, feigning surprise as she lets herself in. I take a quick breath as I regard the fey woman, with skin of pure white and hair that appears of falling snow. Her clothes follow the same monochrome appearance as her body, that of the deep midwinter, and I know immediately that I gaze upon one of the eladrin.

“I was,” I confirm with a nod. I gesture to the drink on the table. “I poured you a drink, courtesy of Grenska’s finest.”

“Blackberry liqueur?” She says with a small grin. Her appearance warms to that of late winter. “I been tryna get my mitts on Grenska’s blackberry since she first announced it. Won’t sell a drop o’ it to me, tho!”

I chuckle as she drinks the whole glass in a single go. “Work with me, I guarantee you’ll be able to buy as much as you want of it.”

Elysia leans forward. “If your note is even remotely accurate, I’ve got no choice, grandmother,” she says softly. I watch as she clutches a small dagger her in concealed hand. “I’ve half a mind to give you what the Elder Frithan got, but we ain’t the Darkest Hand.”

“Assassins?” I question. I know I’ve nothing to fear from this young eladrin - spirited she may be, her threats are empty.

“Nay,” she says. “At least, not that we know. They were our more… unscrupulous competition here in town for the longest time, but when the Lavenders showed up, they started killin’ their competition. I’ve lost three of my best sneakthiefs to the daggers of the Hand. Frithan is the only victim most know about, but they leave their calling card every time they do someone in - they paint the dead’s palm with their own blood.” She sits back, shaking her head.

“That can’t be good for business,” I say dryly. “Thieves, killing their own hits?”

“See, that ain’t it,” she says. “They stopped thievin’ nearso much as they used to, now they’re killin’ random people through the city. We think they might be trying to be assassins, but nobody wants to try and find out. It’s not worth it. Not yet, at least. Eventually, Captain Stormshield will put out an investigation into it, but the Fjords can’t do anythin’ yet. Not enough evidence.”

“And they aren’t organized enough, I take it,” I add.

She nods. She’s young. She’s given away more information than I expected, all without prompt.

“So tell me, young one,” I start.

“Hold up, now,” she stops me. “I ain’t young, not by any standards.”

“Your name is Elysia,” I tell her. “You were named after the late queen of Eldrath, born shortly after she took the throne, some thirty years ago?”

“Aye,” she says, surprise. “Thirty ain’t young.”

“Not to you, dear grandchild,” I say with a sweet smile. “But tell me, do you have the box?”

“Aye,” she produces the box from within her robes. She holds it up. “We barely managed to get it open in time, but it was done. Now how about that twenty thousand?”

“Of course,” I say. “Now, naturally, I don’t have twenty thousand on me right this moment.”

Her eyes flash, and she turns to late autumn. “If’n you don’t have it, then why am I here?”

I laugh, placating her. “Twenty thousand gold is a lot of weight, young one. It’s here, on the property, I just am not holding it.”

“Oh,” she says, returning to an early spring. “Alright. Tell me where it is, I’ll have my people grab it.”

I concentrate for a moment on the weave around me, noticing where her people are located - one is directly above me, in the great room, while two more are investigating each wing. I suspect the one above me is tied up, as a form I gather to be Xia is lounging on the bed.

“Hand me the box please,” I say, reaching out. She hands it over without a word.

I fiddle with it a moment, then close it. After a moment, I mess with it again, pulling it apart and revealing another hidden chamber within. I return it to her.

“Your twenty thousand is in that box there. Don’t close it, you’ll have to bring it back to me to open it again, but take it back and empty what I just opened. When you have completed that, return the box. I do need it back.”

She stares at me, slack-jawed, as I reveal that she had the twenty-thousand on her the entire time. “What other secrets does this box hold?” She demands. “And how much to buy one?”

I laugh. “Go help the dryads of the Uhala forest, and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to make you one.”

She shakes her head, taking the box back. “And what else do you expect in exchange for this twenty thousand?” She asks, looking at me.

“I need a place to live,” I tell her. “I can’t rent the Gemstone from Grenska for the entirety of my stay here, it’s… unsuitable.”

“As in… you would like a better place to rent, or that you would like to buy a house?” She questions, giving me an odd look. “Because I am no real estate manager, I cannot help you buy a house here in town.”

I smile at her. “You are exactly who I need to buy a house from. Tell me,” I ask, leaning forward. “Do the Eyes have a safehouse they maintain an abandoned appearance on, that they prefer to make appear unlivable, or similar? Because imagine how much safer it would appear if a wealthy merchantwoman were to, say, move in and make the house amenable while allowing you to continue using it as a safe house.”

She gives me an odd look, then stands abruptly. “You know your undercity organizations well,” she states. “But I cannot just give away Moonhigh Hall on a whim.”

She sighs, staring at me. “I’ll return tomorrow night with an answer on that. In the meantime, if you’d like, I’ll make sure that Moonhigh Hall is prepared for you to visit and inspect, that you and your,” she gestures around, “three guards would make a house of it yet. But no promises on whether or not the other leaders would agree to it!”

Her caution is wary, but understandable. I do make a mental note to the three to show me to it tomorrow at some point.

“Very well,” I say, rising to my feet. I reach forward with a hand. She takes it, sealing a promise of tonight’s work. “I look forward to putting coins in your guild’s coffers, Elysia.”

“And I look forward to seeing how full you can make them,” she responds, a smile on her face. She turns, vanishing out the front door.

I reach out to the mind of Xia. Let them go, I say. Elysia was amicable and we have made a deal.

I hear the scuffle as he unties the one he caught, and notice that the other two had joined. After a minute, the three guards she had brought along have been freed, and they vanish up the walls on the sides of the villa.

I conjure my tome, grabbing the air. A moment later, the amethyst light retracts from everything around, and I pull it back in, settling it back into its place in my tome.

Xia makes it downstairs in time to watch me. He gives an approving nod. I get the sense that Xia disapproves of strong spellweavers, and that he’s having difficulty with the fact that I am one.

“We heard your plans,” Xoco says as he comes downstairs. “You two made no effort to conceal them.”

I wave him away dismissively. “No point, would’ve pointlessly forced us to update our guard on plans. You tied them up as she expected, and we both wanted you all in earshot. Nobody had any plans of fighting tonight. It’s the way of things.”

His eyebrow raises, but he says no more.

“As for the rest of tonight,” I say, pushing myself back from the table. “It is high time I go to bed. This is well past my preferred bedtime.”

Xoco waves me off, gesturing to his companions to follow him. I watch as they disappear into the west wing, which has its own great room.

I toddle my way upstairs, reaching out to the two lionesses to see what they are doing. I get flashing impressions of dreams from both, and decide it’s as good a time as any for bed.

Changing into my nightgown, I clamber into bed and let myself drift off on the giant, and very comfortable bed.

Chapter Six

The sun is well above the horizon when I stir, the warmth of midmorning filling the room with the scent of the cool fjord air. I breathe deeply, taking in the scents of the world around me, before sitting up and stretching. The villa’s atrium is filled with birds chirping, and I realize sleepily how many trees there actually are in this suite. I hadn’t expected to wake up to the appearance of a forest in the middle of the city.

I head downstairs, where I am genuinely surprised to find the lion-headed tabaxi man from the previous day at my kitchen, cooking food.

“Good morning, daogoch,” he greets me with a pleasant smile as he works the kitchen. “Grenska informed this one that we have special guest here in Gemstone, but that you had no servants with you. This one decided it would be best to be your servants for you, to ensure pleasant stay at Crown Jewels.”

I smile, a little bemused. “Your accent,” I say. “That is not typical of the tabaxi I know. Where are you from?”

He gives me a small nod with a smile. “This one is from far north of here, from city of Tucabaya. City recently voted to join Kingdom of Arands, accepting Queen Myrin as their ruler. As such, trade from Tucabaya has begun in earnest with Brightvale, as they wish to encourage travel further north.”

“How much further north?” I inquire as I sit at the great table.

“Well, let us think… it is about ten day travel on trade caravan to Bright Road fork, and further two week journey in caravan to the Baya Bay crossing, and another week’s journey on boat. Or, if you go on foot or horse whole way, about week to Baya Bay crossing, and another week to cross on boat.” His paws look thoughtfully on his chin as he continues preparing breakfast. “This one forgot to ask - did you have food allergies or preferences? This one can alter recipes as needed.”

“Nay,” I say shaking my head. “Good food is good food, good sir. So it’s about a month’s journey to get to Tucabaya on caravan from here, or about a two week trip on foot or horse?”

“Da,” he says, nodding his head heavily. “This one did it in about five days. This one can move fast when need arises, and T’kura needed this one in Brightvale.”

“Oh?” I ask as he brings me a glass of juice. “What did T’kura need you in Brightvale for?”

“This one was to deliver message to former merchant family here. Unfortunately, T’kura did not like response, and this one was abandoned here in Brightvale.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, a little surprised. “Who is T’kura, and why did she abandon you?”

He flips a pan with a griddle cake, flawlessly executing the toss. “T’kura Frostwhisper is High Councilor of Tucabaya, and well-loved amongst the tabaxi. This one’s family, however,” he facade darkens as he continues talking. “They were found to be traitors to Tucabaya, with hatred of good Queen Myrin, and this one exiled themselves in shame.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “What did your family do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all,” he says, a little too jovial. “This one’s family tried to sell secrets of Tucabayan defense reports to Eldrath.”

“Eldrath?” Surprise is in my voice. “Eldrath fell years ago.”

“Da,” he says. “This one has been stranded in Brightvale for quite some time.”

“Does Grenska pay you well?”

He shakes his head. “Grenska takes pity on this one, gives basic wage and free room and board in exchange for odds and ends help around Crown Jewels. But she does not really need help, and this one has been looking for other jobs.”

“Would Grenska be fine with you finding a new job?” I ask. “And how long have you been looking?”

He glances back towards me, and I can’t help but notice a guilty expression on the regal lion’s face. “Grenska gave this one one week to find new job, as of last week. This is last day. This one admits to hoping you were in search of new servant.”

I sip my juice, saying nothing. I wait and watch quietly as he serves breakfast, a little surprised by his cooking ability. The tabaxi are not known for their culinary skills. Culturally, their food is largely meat of half-cooked varieties and rarely include vegetables or fruit.

But this skilled servant has created a veritable feast of roasted veggies, glazed and sugared fruits, and a plate of variety eggs piled with grilled sausages and griddle cakes.

He knocks on the far door, calling into it, “Breakfast is ready, if you three boys would like to eat!”

I hear scuffling in the next room, and before the gentleman has even had a chance to bring the pitcher of juice to the table, the three boys burst into the room in various states of undress, all looking sleepy.

“A good morning to you three,” I say, smiling at their sleepiness. “Will you three be prepared for the day here in about a half hour?”

The three of them barely make any notice of me, instead choosing to grab a few plates and cart them off back into the west wing. I chuckle as they leave, shaking my head in laughter as the three of them nearly trip over each other.

“The kids are alright,” I say.

“And barely awake,” the servant replies.

“I must ask,” I turn to him. “What is your name? I never caught it.”

“Remiel,” he says with a bow.

“Remiel…?” I trail off, waiting for a surname.

“Just Remiel,” he says, his paws up. “This one has forsaken surname in light of actions of family. That name is no longer worth wearing.”

I nod. “Your work with breakfast was impossibly well-done,” I say. “If you’d like to arrange a contract of employment, I would be most pleased to accept it. If you’d like, you may accompany the three boys and I around the city, and we can discuss the terms of your employment throughout the day.”

Remiel rubs his paws together, delight in his piercing golden eyes. “Of course, daogoch! And if you need bodyguard, this one is skilled with rapier, and is more than capable of battling away few ruffians.”

I laugh, but point at the door the three boys disappeared into. “I appreciate the offer, but ‘bodyguard’ will not be part of your duties. Those three there are my hired muscle.”

I stand, thanking Remiel for the meal. I tell him to be ready in a half hour by the gates with the boys before returning upstairs.

I dig through the small bag I had brought with me - while mostly containing my bathing supplies, it also had a pocket for a spare change of clothes for today. I choose a basic set of traveling robes. Nothing special about them, but comfortable and both warm and cool as needed.

I set a kettle on the small fireplace up here, then settle and watch the atrium garden, thinking. I’ve got three excellent guards who are far more skilled than they either let on or realize, and have now found an experienced servant more than willing to sign just about any deal I give him. If Moonhigh Manor turns out to be anything nearing useful, it may be all I need to secure my foothold in this city.

But the words of the two elk farmers from yesterday still dig into my mind… that what this city needs more than anything is a way to secure the Bright Road. From the sounds of it, the road is just about the only way in or out of Brightvale. I’d guess this ‘Elderglow Keep’ lie somewhere up the Bright Road, and likely off one of the forks.

Forks… the Bright Road has more than a few forks, and it sounds as though they all congregate at the same place, at this small alpine valley town of Annabrekka.

For such an important town, it seems odd that nobody has sent resources to fortify or assist Annabrekka.

As I muse, I decide to take a leap, and to start the day by visiting Moonhigh Manor. Whatever else I may do here in Brightvale, having a place of my own would be more helpful than not, and would make for a good place to begin my visit.

With this decided, I sit back and enjoy my cup of tea until the allotted time has passed. I watch the atrium below as Remiel and three very wet looking boys walk to the gates.

Standing, I down the rest of my cup quickly, then toddle down with my walking stick.

Just for good measure, I grab the now half-empty bottle of blackberry liqueur as I walk back.

Tucking it into my robes, I wave good morning to the three boys and the servant. The three are looking significantly more awake than they did a half hour ago, and I suspect it has to do with a good bath, as the three are all sporting wet hair, only sparingly dried off.

As I climb into my buggy, I notice that Slate and Smoke have already been fed, with their trough showing signs of having very recently held meat.

“So where to first?” Xoco asks as he holds the buggy steady for me. “And do we need to help you harness the lions?”

I wave him away as I sit down, then flick my staff towards the two lionesses, who have now stood up and positioned themselves. With a quick motion, the harnesses are conjured and tie themselves around the twins.

“Nay,” I say. “I’ve got it.”

“Impressive,” Remiel growls from behind me, his voice amused. “But these are not lions, are they? This one tried to talk to them this morning, and they understood not a word.”

“You catch on quick,” I say, amused. “Ask me again when we are around a bonfire with a feast to be had, and I’ll tell you the whole story behind these two lions.”

His eyes flash, but he says no more. The three guards give me a strange look as I repeat what I told them.

“We go to Moonhigh Manor first,” I declare, as Xia and Xoco push open the door. Xoco murmurs a word to Xia, then takes the lead. Xia falls to the rear, beside Dancing Grass, and Remiel walks beside me.

“Moonhigh Manor?” Remiel’s voice is surprised. “What do you want with abandoned estate?”

“Looking to buy,” I explain. “I was informed that it may be for sale, and that we would have the freedom to investigate the grounds and house before agreeing to a purchase.”

He purrs at that, nodding his head as we walk. “This one agrees, that is good idea. This one has explored it before, and… with little work -  or maybe lot - that estate would make lovely place for which to conduct business.”

“My main concerns are how easy it would be to defend,” I admit. “I have had too many experiences in the past with living in troubled areas, and I would feel safer in a house with durable defenses.”

He purrs again at this. “Then you will love Moonhigh Manor. It is built on rocky hill, with streams on both sides of it. A large gatehouse with steep path is entrance, very easily defensible. Moonhigh Manor is one of very few places that was built outside Brightvale’s walls to better defend itself. Original owners and builders were war veterans.”

I take that in with a deep thought, realizing that it could very easily work in my favor. Although being outside the city walls isn’t ideal, after having seen the city… I somehow doubt the walls are in the best shape. This city is growing too fast for its own good.

Xoco chatters with Remiel as we walk, and the two get along quite well. I listen in, discovering that Remiel’s experience with a blade has largely come from living on the streets the last few years, but that he had also had a teacher when he was still living with his family.

On the other hand, Xoco is a dryad from the center of Arands. Like Remiel and Xia, Xoco has never left Arands. He grew up in his forest home, but was given the freedom to roam as he pleased through a spell that allows him to go where he pleases. He has a single-use spell that will teleport him back to his tree if things get dire, though he swears he’d sooner die than abandon Xia and Dancing Rain.

Remiel seems saddened as he discusses his lost family, though he will not name them. From Xoco’s glances towards me, I’m pretty sure the young man has already guessed Remiel’s previous family name.

I don’t even realize we’ve left the city gates until Dancing Rain points it out behind me, waving to the guards perched on what I had thought was just a resting spot for a few guards. There’s no gate to speak of, but rather simply a low wooden bridge with supports that can be broken. It’s rickety, and I’m a little nervous as our party moves over it.

While the city continues outside the “walls,” it vanishes fairly quickly. I’m surprised by how suddenly the lower end houses turn into wilderness, and I wonder where this city gets its lumber from - the forest begins right at the edge of the city, and doesn’t appear to end.

We walk for another few minutes before turning onto a quiet, but surprisingly well-made path, leading up towards a gatehouse perched on a steep rock. True to Remiel’s word, two substantial rivers can be heard and seen on either side of us, though they seem to appear out of nowhere.

The gatehouse is well-designed to appear threatening, with hard features and arrow slits along the top floor of the gatehouse. A square tower and a pair of round towers jut out from either side of the gate itself, looking down on the path up to the gate on three sides. A single window is low on the square tower, and both have crenelated rooflines, indicating a platform on top to patrol from. With how far back the square tower goes at its base level, it looks as though the gatehouse doubles as the estate’s storage building.

The gatehouse is imposing, but Xoco and Remiel walk right up to it. Remiel begins pointing out notable features of it.

“Gatehouse has three floors, two of which are designed to store food and maintenance supplies. Third floor, top floor, is war room, designed to handle planning of protecting of manor and grounds. All three rooms are very spacious, and allow for much flexibility.”

He gestures towards the long side, where the square platform reaches back quite a ways before turning into a wall.

“Around corner there, all storage for food. Is good cellar, well-designed. Placement of storage means trade caravans never need approach manor itself, can simply drop off goods at gatehouse. Manor kitchens have direct path from kitchens to cellar in gatehouse, makes for very efficient meal preparation.”

He gestures for Xoco to continue, and we continue our way up the gatehouse. Dancing Grass and Xia prepare to help push my buggy up the hill, but I wave them off. I explain to them that the buggy, like most things I own, is enchanted for utilitarian purposes. Slate and Smoke feel as though they are pulling about a hundred pounds altogether, which is nothing to them.

True to my word, the two lions deftly patter up the steep gatehouse incline without so much as a growl.

The gate itself, however, is missing.

“Ah,” Remiel says, nodding sagely at the door. “This one do think that front gate has been stolen or merely rotted away. No matter. Manor has good bones, easily fixed.”:

I smile at that. He’s confident.

We go through the two gates, both of which are missing. The small area between the two gates is entirely empty, but Remiel points out the three murder holes above us, and explains that both gates are only to be opened and closed from the floor above, with no way to open the gates from down here.

I approve.

We pass through both gates, neither of which still exists, and onto a wide open platform. Crenelated walls are present on all sides of us, and I see two different hatches leading to what I presume to be the cellar. From the size of the platform, the cellar must be massive.

In front of us sits the manor itself. It seems to be predominantly made of three buildings - the rightmost is a single, massive, circular tower, easily the largest building of the three, though not by much. It is adorned by a rooftop room, which I surmise is either a study or the great room.

The central building is a pair of offset rectangles, one further back than the other, and at a right angle to each other. The second floor overhangs the first by a substantial amount, and I find that the appearance is fairly pleasing to look at. The central buildings also boast the largest set of doors, bordered by two grand windows on the bottom floor and three equally grand windows on the upper floor. With a fairly substantial porch, I’d imagine this is the manor’s main entrance.

The leftmost building is another circular tower, but on the smaller side. Two doors open from it, and it has two massive chimneys from either side of it. Based on the paths that seem to lead directly to the cellar below us and the presence of such massive smoke release, I’d imagine this is where the kitchens are located. The second floor overhangs the first here as well, and wonder what lay above the kitchens. Given the warmth that kitchens typically provide, I’d hope it’s a great room.

I suppose if it isn’t, I could just make it one.

I send the boys off to scout the three towers I can see that edge the property. From the looks of it, they’re all defensive towers meant for lookouts, but I want to be sure. The walls of the estate ringing the rocky cliffs that lead into the rivers below make it more than a bit difficult to see across the grounds.

While I can see from here that a great many of the windows have been smashed out, the ones that remain show that the previous tenants were fairly boring, with plain glass windows. Similarly, none of the doorways I can see from here have doors in the, allowing for an unobstructed view of the interior.

“Are there stables?” I ask Remiel. He nods, pointing off to our right, along the edge of the cliff. A fairly large stable is set up, overlooking quite a bit from its high vantage on the highest outcropping of rock. The far end appears to hold the foundations for a smithy.

“Outstanding,” I say, a little bemused at the design choice. “But functional. Let us tour the house, shall we?”

I step off the buggy, giving Slate and Smoke a simple alarm instruction, then toddle towards the main house.