Blackgrave

Lord Ros, Ithena, Gilt, and Kangee walked the northern edge of shops until they reached the town’s inn, The Reunbaum. Faint voices echoed from the windows and door that stood half-open with a stool barred in between it and the wall. Outside at one of the tables sat an old, haggard woodsman surrounded by several empty and spilled over tankards. He was half-humming, half-singing a jaunty tune.

“Now that's what we need,” Gilt said to the three of them, pointing out the mead. “Something to drink.”

“Yeah!” the old drunk shouted and raised his glass. “Drink them up!” He cackled and smacked the table. “And slam them down!”

Lord Ros examined the drunken woodsman. His hands were rough and worn with the day’s labor, his greasy hair wet with sweat. This man may know nothing, but I should leave no stone unturned. I have to get back to Witchbane Keep so I can attend the Festival.

He turned to his companions. “You three go ahead, I’m going to speak to the old man. Ask around inside. See if you can learn anything, or at least secure our rooms.”

“Whatever you say, ‘Lord’ Ros.” Gilt waved his hand dismissively before heading inside with Ithena and Kangee.

Lord Ros sighed and let his head fall freely back so he could look up at the darkening sky with its deep purple hues. If Benard and I had switched places, would he have taken that wish? Would he have chanced his life for mine? Gods be damned. Why didn’t you let me help you? Were we not brothers?

Lord Ros approached the man slowly. “Greetings, I am Lord Ronan Ros of The Order of the Witches Bane, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He pulled out his notes and quill and readied himself to write.

“Ohh shut up, laddie!” the old man replied. “Can’t you see I’m having a drink?!”

“My apologies,” Lord Ros replied. “It’s just that I’m here investigating a potential witch sighting, and I was hoping to interview you on what you might know.”

The old man reeled back and snarled his yellow teeth in disgust. “Witch?” he spat. “Ain’t seen no witch here.” The old man rubbed his stomach. “Could use something to eat though.” He wheezed with drunken laughter as he chomped his teeth up and down. Licking his lips, he said, “Maybe my memory isn’t so good on an empty stomach.”

Lord Ros was left agape. First the Witch Hunters, now the townsfolk. It was as if Fate herself were playing a cruel joke on him.

“Well, I have no money so, unless you do, I’m afraid you’ll have to do without,” Lord Ros told him. “Now, if you don’t know anything about a witch, perhaps you might know something about this bard fellow who came to town yesterday.”

“A bard?” The old man scrunched up his face and nodded. “Yeah, I saw him yesterday.”

“You did?” Lord Ros wasn’t sure if he could trust the bard and hoped to get a general read of his character from the folks in town. “What can you tell me about him? Others mention he was in town only for the day. I’m just looking to find out what exactly he was doing.”

“Ahhh, well these old eyes of mine did see the bard yesterday, and I’ll tell you just what he was doing, but ya gotta get me something to eat first.” The old man cracked a smile.

“What?” Lord Ros groaned. He shook his head to rid himself of the sudden anger. Throwing his hands up and walking away, he said, “Well, I’ll see what I can do.”

Inside of the inn it was mostly empty. Kangee, Gilt, and Ithena were all sitting in the corner of the room by the fire. A few other woodsmen were spread out, some sat in pairs, others alone. A bald, thick-bearded man was behind the counter, wiping a glass.

Lord Ros crossed the room to the others, asking “Find anything out?” as he stepped to the table.

“Nothing of worth,” Kangee replied. “Most say they have seen nothing. There is some concern as to why Benwall the Brave had not noticed.”

The bard mentioned that name as well. “Who exactly is he?” Lord Ros asked.

“He’s the town’s Speaker,” Kangee answered. “He served Scrydell during the war and was recognized as a hero.”

“He didn’t do anything special,” Ithena spat. Cold malice gleamed in her eyes, and she downed her drink in one gulp. Wiping her lips with a small towel, she added, “None of the heroes did.”

Kangee narrowed his gaze on her, brooding over her words. Keeping his eyes fixed to hers, he said, “While others bragged of their body counts, he only ever spoke of those he saved.”

Ithena rolled her eyes and turned to Lord Ros. “Any luck with the drunk?” She crossed her arms and threw her leg up on the table, rocking on the back two legs of her chair.

“Maybe,” Lord Ros told her. “I need some gold to buy him some food before he gives me the information.”

Gilt burst into laughter and shook his head. He grabbed a knife from his belt, unsheathed it, and laid it on the table. “Just put this to his throat,” Gilt said before taking a gulp of his drink. He wiped his lips with his arm. “Not like anyone is going to stop you.”

“That kind of behavior is the very reason so many are hesitant to speak to us in the first place. Now, one of you spot me some gold. I’ll see to it you are repaid once we get back to the keep,” Lord Ros replied.

“Here,” Gilt tossed him a coin purse that looked strikingly similar to the one the children had stolen from him. “This should cover the cost.”

“Now, wait a second, is this mine?” Lord Ros snatched the purse, examining it carefully.

“Don’t be silly,” Gilt told him. “We didn’t find your coin purse at the children’s hideout. That is just my extra purse.”

“Ohh, yes. I see. I suppose we all have similar coin purses.” Lord Ros forced a smile. “I’ll be back once I hear what the old man has to say.” He left them and headed over to the bar.

I know this is my purse, Gilt. You are a liar and a fiend. Someday this will come back to bite you, but I don’t have time for your antics. Gods, that would feel good to say.

As he approached the counter, the barkeepset down the glass and folded his arms defensively, his eyes burning with anger. Just then, Ros spotted a pie cooling off to the side. “Excuse me,” he said to the barkeep.

“Something I can help you with? Your friends already got their drinks and rooms for free. You here to shake me down as well?” The barkeep furrowed his brow. He shot glances at the others, a bead of sweat rolling down his temples.

Angry and afraid. Great. Just another thing I have to deal with.

“Yes—well no, actually. I would just like to purchase that pie of yours,” Lord Ros said.

The man’s expression suddenly changed. What was anger a moment prior, was replaced by Greed. “I suppose if you are actually going to be spending some gold, I can’t complain.” The barkeep looked over at the pie and rubbed his tongue on the inside of his lips. “Ten gold for the whole thing.”

“Ten gold for a pie?” Lord Ros shook his head in bewilderment. “Seems a little absurd to me.”

“Times are tough all over,” the man replied, shrugging as he did. “It's the best I can do.”

“Fine, ten gold for the pie, but it better be the best pie anyone has ever tasted.” Lord Ros pulled out ten gold from the coin purse and handed them over.

“All yours.” He grinned wide, bearing his teeth and letting out a chuckle.

Lord Ros grabbed the pie without another word and made his way back outside to the old woodsman. “Now, I hope your information is worth the price,” Lord Ros said to the man as he placed the pie down on the table.

“I guess not all Witch Hunters are so bad,” mumbled the old man. He brought the pie to his face and took in a big sniff. Raising his eyebrows and smiling, he said “Now that smells mighty good.”

Whether he was too drunk to care, or he simply had no manners, the man dug his dirty fingers into the pie and scooped out some crust and filling before shoveling it into his mouth. The red of the raspberry filling smeared on his face and hands, and the mess he was making only continued to grow.

Lord Ros sat down in awkward silence for several minutes watching as the man drunkenly ate until he had his fill.

“Ahhh,” the old drunk burped and wiped his face clean with his sleeve. “Now what was it you were asking me about?”

“You mentioned you saw a bard in town yesterday. I’m looking to find out just what exactly he was doing. Now, I know he spoke to the town elder’s daughter, but is there anything else you could tell me? Did he speak to anyone else, did he do anything strange?”

“I didn’t see much of the bard, but I noticed him speaking to Benwall the Brave before sundown.” The drunk scratched at his chin. “Didn’t hear them, but Benwall looked uneasy after their talk.”

“I see,” Lord Ros folded his arms. “Have you heard anything about a spirit in the woods? My companions and I encountered a pair of spirits on the way, and we’ve learned others have as well.”

“If you're looking into the dead, best to ask Benwall. He’s the one who maintains the Festival Pyres every month.” The old man yawned and stretched his arms up high. “High time for me to hit the hay. Is that all you gotta ask me, sonny?”

“Yeah,” Lord Ros replied. “Thank you,” he said begrudgingly before heading back off into the inn to sit with the others.

“Did questioning the drunk pay off?” Gilt asked as Lord Ros approached.

“Perhaps.” Lord Ros took a seat beside Ithena and put his journal on the table. “So from what I have gathered, the Witch of Doubt is likely long gone. However, something else has taken her place.”

“The spirit?” Gilt asked.

“Just a symptom of something greater, I’m afraid.” Lord Ros opened his journal and began flipping through the pages. “I spoke to the bard that gave Juniper that flower. He said the spirit is the result of a Witch of Chaos that had passed through town once the Witch of Doubt had left.”

“When did you speak to the bard?” Kangee asked.

“While I chased after Ithena and Gilt. Fog had thickened around me and there I was met with a trio of strange men. The bard was among them.” Lord Ros stared off into the darkness through the window. “He told me this town was swept up in Prejudice, and if left unchecked, it would be dire.” Lord Ros tapped his fingers on the journal.

“Tomorrow we will seek out Benwall the Brave. The bard supposedly spoke to him. As to what about, I aim to find out. After we see him, let's get Haldor to take us to the ruins where the Witch of Doubt was last seen. Just because she has left, doesn’t mean there is no value in having a look. She could always return, or just be hiding somewhere in the outskirts. The bard mentioned she had left Waldenhauf, but Waldenhauf is just a town and these woods stretch on for miles.”

“What about the spirit? Are we going back to the shack and trying again?” Kangee asked.

“Maybe we don’t have to. The spirit is likely someone from town. Benwall might know something that helps us narrow down where to start looking.” Lord Ros looked around the room and noticed it was now empty besides them and the barkeep. “Did any of you three learn anything?”

Ithena gently rocked back and forth in her chair, her arms folded. “Well we were only asking about the Witch of Doubt, so no. The Aredesan’s that live here can’t believe their beloved ‘Lunara’ was a witch the whole time. Meanwhile the clanfolk refuse to leave because the Witch of Doubt is somewhere out in the woods. Honestly, it’s all trivial. If the Witch has left, then so should we.”

“We can’t leave the spirit unattended,” Lord Ros replied. “We must at least see to its destruction.”

“If they want us to take care of that they can put in a request. We’d make more money that way,” Gilt said. “I don’t see what the big deal is, no sense breaking a sweat if we're not getting paid.”

“We're putting the spirit to rest and that’s final,” Lord Ros snapped and the others let it go.

The four of them sat around the table for a few hours eating and drinking. Lord Ros searched his notes for information on spirits and witches while Ithena and Gilt swapped stories of past hunts. Kangee remained silent, only speaking when asked something directly.

Late into the night, just before the four of them were off to bed, a woman in a weather-worn dark red cloak entered the tavern. She carried a hooded lantern and had a leather bag that hung from her belt.

"Finally," the woman said as she looked around the room." She removed her hood and revealed her rosy cheeks. She was beautiful and had long, dark hair carefully braided down her back. Her dress had a high neck that wrapped all the way up to her face, concealing all of her throat.

“Ohh my!” she said when she spotted the four Witch Hunters in the corner. “I’m surprised that anyone other than the barman is still awake.” She crossed the room directly to them. Her leather boots flicked up dirt and left prints as she walked. “Yes, hello there. Tell me, is this town Waldenhauf?”

“Aye,” Kangee replied, eyeing her down as she approached.

“Ohh good, good,” she said. “It’s just so dark and I’ve been traveling all day, I’m afraid I’ve nearly lost my wits!” The woman cracked a smile. “Well, you four look on edge,” she told them.

“Comes with the job,” Lord Ros replied. He looked up at her, admiring her fine red dress that peaked out from under her cloak. “You should avoid traveling alone,” he told her. “There is evil out in those woods.”

“Ohh I see, so you four are those Witch Hunters,” the woman replied. Her smile stretched wide and she scanned their faces.

“Yes,” Lord Ros answered. “We're here to investigate a potential witch, but at the moment we're looking into a spirit. Did you by chance happen to see a young girl by herself along the road to town?”

“I can’t say that I have,” replied the woman with a raise of her hand. “This town sure has its problems,” she added. The woman shook her head and placed her hand on her hip. Leaning in to them, she said, “First werewolves, now I arrive and find out there is a spirit out there as well. It's a wonder this whole town hasn’t just burned down.”

“Troubling times,” Lord Ros replied. “That’s why we're asking everyone we see if they have noticed anything strange. Great evil is out there waiting to strike, and we're just trying to snuff it out before it gets the chance.”

“How noble,” the woman replied.

“What is it that brings you to Waldenhauf?” Kangee asked. He stared into the woman, carefully examining the contours of her face.

“My sister. She is a bit older than me and has been writing to me about all of the strange happenings here in town.” The woman smiled, “I hope to ease her troubled mind with my presence.”

“Very doting of you.” Lord Ros smiled back. “Anything we should have a look at that comes to mind? If your sister has mentioned anything that sounds of interest, please, I’m all ears.” No stone unturned. The quicker I solve this the better. Benards Festival is fast approaching.

“Hmmm…” The woman folded her arms and thought for a few moments. “Ohh, I know, this is more recent. She said something about a woman in a white dress hanging around the graveyard at night. She mentioned that she had never seen the woman before, and after that, she never saw her again.”

A spark of interest flashed in Ros’ eyes. “That could be helpful.” He sat up more in his seat. “Is there anything else?”

“I’m afraid not. She mentioned the werewolves, but also some Witch Hunters took care of it. But if this is indeed Waldenhauf, then I should waste no more time. My sister is waiting. Good luck, Witch Hunters.” The woman smiled before taking her leave.

Kangee eyed the woman closely as she left. He stood, walked to the door, and had a look outside. Memories of the war torn battlefield filled his mind as he stepped out into the cold night air.

“I have heard that voice before, I know it,” he said, scanning the treeline for the woman in the red cloak. Unable to find her, he returned to the others and sat back down.

“Everything okay, Kangee?” Lord Ros asked, and Kangee nodded. “Good. Let's get some rest and check the graveyard in the morning.” Without another word, they silently headed off to their rooms.