Chapter 1: Arriving at the Three Feathers

It’s been a long day’s travel. The sun is just beginning to go down as you come upon an inn. As you draw closer, you notice that the place is unusually busy. There is a large coach pulled up outside, and lackeys are busying themselves with various trunks and chests as liveried men-at-arms look on.



Inside, servants are hurrying to and fro, and the innkeeper is engrossed in conversation with a scribe who carries a visibly bulging purse. It is a full ten minutes before you can attract his attention.



"Welcome," he says at last, "I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. We have a distinguished guest tonight — the Gravin Maria-Ulrike von Liebwitz of Ambosstein, no less! I hardly know whether I’m coming or going. Now, then — you want a room? What am I saying, of course you do! Ah — excuse me again, I’ll only be a moment."

You wait for another few minutes as he directs a train of servants to the Gravin’s rooms. "So sorry," he says as he returns to you. "It really is mad this evening."

The landlord nods at Artur seemingly uncomfortable with the presence of a holy man. "Will be right along," he says.

He smiles at Dieter as he pass. "Good to see you again. Hope you are in good fortune." he notes your order before heading behind the bar.

His words are almost drowned by the cheer coming from the table next to yours. A bare chested man has just beaten what's probably one of the gravin's guards in an arm wrestling competition.

At the other end of the table, the gravin herself can be seen but for a moment. She eyes her cheering guards with disdain before shaking the hand of a halfling and excusing hereself from the table. Two guards follows her upstairs.



With the gravin gone the bare chested man turns his attention to the newly arrived. "Come sit! You look like a good challenge!" he calls out to Artur holding up a fist, hopefully to signify a challenge to arm wrestle.

The big man introduces himself. "My name's Bruno friend," he says with a grin his voice has a heavy Aldorf Accent. "Who is this brave man who dares face the Bear."

He throws a silver shilling on the table. "Can you match that?"

Dieter starts telling an highly amusing anecdote about a carpenter that tries to fake his own murder to get out of paying taxes.

Bruno grumbles for a moment before looking you over another time. "Don't let it be said the Bear shyes away from any challengers," he finally laughs and rests his elbow on the table, his arm open towards Artur.

Meanwile, Kristoff you notice three more people arriving, heading immediately for the fireplace to hang their heavy cloaks and hats. They seem annoyed at having problem catching the innkeeper's attention. They stand muttering amongst themselves, sometimes looking over their shoulders at the room. By their clothing, they look like scholars.

The elder student looks perturbed at the attention. "I must thank you for your offer, but by Verena's blessing we will be safe. I assure you."

Meanwhile at the arm wrestling competition both men seems to struggle to get the upper hand.

It does not take long for Bruno to wrestle a victory out of Artur. "Good try! But once again the Bear is undefeated!" he laughs.

"So you ready to bless my loved ones?" he asks bunching his hands into fists and laying them on the table, from the look he gives you he seems to want you to bless his fists.

Dieter is just about to finish his story to rambunctious laughter from the gravin's soldiers when the door once again opens and the strangest sight of the evening (though it is still young) appears when an beautfully dressed elf enters.

Artur can just overhear the innkeeper, who has finally found the time to service the students, mutter under his breath. "Pox on me! Another high maintenance customer."

There is a hush when Caerylia of Saphery enters the Three Feathers.

In strides a high elf woman carrying herself with a grace and an air of command that would make any who behold her stumble-footed. Her eyes, the blue of the summer morning sky, hint thought and compassion, as of one who has known many things that the years bring, so ancient and knowing for one whose face is young.

Her golden-silvery hair is a marvel unmatched, cascading from the crown of her head down to the back of her knees. The radiance of the sun and stars alike are ensnared in her tresses, faintly shimmering about her tall, sylphlike form. And oh, she is tall! Towering, even—four inches over six feet, an arresting height for any woman outside Ulthuan, but her presence is such that her height seems the proper one, and the others would feel ungainly in their shortness.

Even her gown is a marvel—silk and immaculately white, as if she had not been traveling the roads and is attending a summer gala rather than finding shelter in a humble inn. A delicate silver embroidery of leaves, vines, and flowers adorn the edges of her gown, ten-times fancier than any feastday clothes you would find in Reikland indeed. In her hand, she holds an ornate staff carved from ivory. All in all, this otherworldly woman simply did not belong.



The queenly figure glides towards the innkeep, her face serene and composed. "I shall like to have a place in your dormitory for the night," she says, her voice a song. "One bed and fresh linen, that is all I need."

Perhaps it's an irony that such a richly dressed woman would ask for the humblest of lodgings. It’s almost akin to cleaning a latrine with silk. Her peaceful eyes survey the room for any that would interest her—any other Asur or Asrai if there are any, the three scholars, until her gaze finally fastens upon Kristof.