Well before the sun rises, you prepare yourselves for the short journey back to Viamard with efficiency and are on the road early. Clouds have built up during the night, and there is an unmistakably unsettled feeling in the spring air. You'd guess there will be rain sometime today, a cold early spring rain that seeps through clothes and into the bones. But as you make your way into the outskirts of town, you're lucky enough to have come this far without any unpleasant weather. You crest the final hill before the small lakeside town you visited the day before and in the faint pre-dawn light see much the same place you left: abandoned, clearly damaged by fire and destruction of some sort, with the citadel on the opposite side of the town from where you stand.
The wind is starting to pick up off the lake, trees swaying and hair whipping about faces.