Storm on the Horizon

A young Traladaran maiden, her skirt wet from the rain, hurries over to you from down the street. She hesitates for a bit, before dropping to a short curtsy: "Afternoon, adventurers" her voice trembles as she talks to you, and she quickly looks sideways, as if to check if anyone is watching "You visited Verge before, have you not? I remember you; from dinner." she lowers her voice a bit, almost inaudiable over the rain "You must come at once. Please..."

"The Castle!" the young girl trembles "The lady Bowell. She needs your help. I can't - " she looks around her again, her face contorting with fear "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here..."

It is a grueling climb up the castle in the heavy rain. The steep path up the cliffside is slick and muddy, and the wind the higher up you go makes every step a struggle. Verge looms high above, the gray walls merging with the dark skies. You find the portcullis lowered when you finally make it to the gate, and the two poor guards up on the battlement, water dripping from their helms, turn you away saying 'no visitors are welcome here'. They shake their heads and repeat their words even after you identify yourselves, and none of them even makes an attempt to inquire with the Lord of the manor.

But then someone calls up to them from within the wall. It is faint from that distance, but you can still hear it over the rain and thunder. A moment later the guards scramble to obey. The chain grinds as the portcullis begins to lift, the wet iron shrieking and creaking. At the gate stands Lord Bowell, the tall, bulky man wrapped in a heavy dark cloak

"Welcome, old friends!" he calls over "Enter quickly, so we may get out of this blasted rain!"

"We can get out of this miserable rain, for start!" he gestures at the courtyard behind him "There will be time enough to speak of serious matters once we are dry and gathered at dinner. You can go refresh yourselves for now"

The portcullis creaks back down as soon as you pass through the gate, shutting the exit behind you. Lord Bowell gives you a short, curt, nod before striding off into the keep, leaving a pair of guards to show you to the guest quarters.

A young maiden, not much older than fifteen, enters the room not long after you settle in. Her face is pale, and there are dark spots beneath her eyes. She curtises and speaks softly, but quickly, as if she can't wait to dart out of your room: "My lords and ladies, there is a hot bath ready for you, and fresh, dry clothes. Lord Bowell asked me to tell you dinner would be served soon, an hour after sunset. Would there be anything else you would require?"

The young maiden looks at Boudica with sheer terror. She raises a finger to her lips, pleading for her to keep quiet, before turning without saying another word, and hurrying out of the room

"Great" Thea sighed to herself "Why do I get the feeling we just walked straight into the Spider's web?" She glanced at her uncle, and gave him a knowing look. Reaching for a set of clean clothes, she added" "I'm skipping dinner. Let me know what you manage to find out"

****

The long oak table in the great hall is laid with bread, cheese, and pitchers of red wine. Lord Bowell stands at the head of the table, clad in a clean white tunic and leather trousers.

"Welcome!" unnaturally cheerful, he strides forward and clasps Will’s shoulders with both his hands. His grip is like iron, and he squeezes so hard his fingers sink into his muscles "Will, my boy! How good to see you so soon again. Have you come to spend the winter here? We could – "

He stops midsentence as he looks behind Will, his eyes resting on the man standing behind him.

"Could it be??" He releases Will, and steps to face Jurgen "Harald?!?? The hero of Marilenev Fields, standing right here in my hall?! What do I owe the honor ? And how, in the champion’s name, did the Duke ever let a man like you leave his service??"

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Bowell" Jorgen Harald responds with a terse, short nod, much to Bowell's disappointment.