Since it is already late in the day, the party reluctantly agrees to spend one more evening in the shelter of the cave, with the plan being that they will head back to the road at first light. Orthos invites Rolf along to see the estate he has inherited from his great uncle, and the Dwarf (having nothing better to do, apparently, nor anywhere else to be) agrees.At dawn, the group enjoys a quick breakfast of fish before extinguishing their campfire and bidding adieu to the waterfall cave for good. They retrace their steps along the path upon which Ereazaru led them, and reach the forest road still early in the morning. Their spirits buoyed by their recent gains, and glad to be traveling again, the group is unusually lighthearted and mirthful as their journey carries on into midday.
The party reaches Dale-Town early in the afternoon. It is a rather small community whose main form of commerce involves timbering and harvesting other commodities from the woods and the river. Taking a brief respite at the Lazy Beaver inn, the group treats itself to a well-earned meal and some refreshing pints of stout ale. The other patrons stare unabashedly at the Dwarf among them, and some of the less considerate laugh and make conspicuous remarks about his beard and height, but fall silent as Rolf sternly fingers the handle of his spiked mace.As Orthos asks the barkeep for directions to Sudlow Manor, Laurie overhears some gossip about dragonslayers. Introducing herself as a traveling songsmith in need of fresh fodder for a good tale, she learns that a group of dragonslayers was hired to deal with a green wyrm that was menacing the town, but the dread beast seemed to have moved on and was recently seen in the skies above Corcoran, and the slayers had gone in that direction in pursuit. Laurie relays this information to her companions, who deduce that Ereazaru had likely made herself conspicuous elsewhere in order to lure the dragonslayers away from her nesting site.
Orthos returns to the group with directions, having learned that Sudlow Manor lies well outside of the town proper, in a hilly area near the southwestern edge of Lakewood Forest. He guesses that only another hour or two of walking will be required. The party, energized by their late lunch and eager to complete their journey now that they are so close, agrees to press on.
*****
The group follows the directions faithfully, nearing their destination late in the afternoon. The path they are on winds up a steep and desolate hill, at the top of which is perched Sudlow Manor. The great stone house is as cheerless as it is imposing; the windows are barred and dark, and an unseasonably cool breeze causes the door of a dilapidated wooden gate to creak open and shut at irregular intervals. A neglected garden, which at one time must have been verdant and splendid, rustles and rattles dryly in the wind. The mood of the party has changed from anticipation to apprehension; a crow caws as it flies overhead, but does not linger.
The group follows the directions faithfully, nearing their destination late in the afternoon. The path they are on winds up a steep and desolate hill, at the top of which is perched Sudlow Manor. The great stone house is as cheerless as it is imposing; the windows are barred and dark, and an unseasonably cool breeze causes the door of a dilapidated wooden gate to creak open and shut at irregular intervals. A neglected garden, which at one time must have been verdant and splendid, rustles and rattles dryly in the wind. The mood of the party has changed from anticipation to apprehension; a crow caws as it flies overhead, but does not linger.You are greeted by a haggard old man leaning on a cane for support, so thin and frail that it seems a strong gust of wind might snap him in two. He introduces himself as Henricus Finch and, upon being introduced to Orthos, clasps his hands together as if a prayer has been answered. He invites the group into his little cottage, which could be politely described as cozy, and proceeds to pour some tea which is served with a humble cake from his meager pantry.
“How much do you know about your great uncle Lothar, Master Orthos?” Henricus asks.
11 comments:
"I'm afraid very little. He and my father had a falling out when I was but a small boy."
“My Frieda and I came into his service perhaps forty years ago. Your uncle was a great man, and we counted ourselves very fortunate to find ourselves in his employ. He and his lady, Missus Ivory, were generous and kind, and their darling son was such a joy. What a lovely family they were!” Henricus’ eyes have taken on a faraway look as he reminisces about those years, but then they moisten and his chin begins to wobble as painful memories intrude. “It’s so terrible what happened to them,” he says mournfully.
He explains: “The missus and the boy; killed and robbed by highwaymen on their way to Westbrook. Such a senseless tragedy! Your poor uncle never recovered. Who could? Oh, he was a changed man after that. Yes, it changed everything: so much anger and bitterness was there in his heart, and so much sadness in that house. As if he completely turned his back on the world, it was. My wife and I were the only ones Master Lothar ever spoke to after that, when he did speak.”
“These have been very lonely days. My dear Frieda passed away years ago, so for a long while it has been just me and your uncle, but now he too is gone. It is just me here in my little cottage, in the shadow of that awful house. I dare not enter; I cannot even bring myself to look through its windows! I know not what traps await or what enchantments he laid upon it. Your uncle became strange in the last few years of his life, you see, and the house too, as he made it as much of a fortress as he could. It seems he sealed himself inside as effectively as he sealed the rest of the world out. Poor, lonely Master Lothar.”
The old man forces a hopeful smile. “But perhaps you will bring cheer and warmth to its halls once again.” He pulls a dusty book from off a shelf and opens it, retrieving a tarnished brass key from an inner compartment. “I had this from when I was still welcome to come and go in the manor house as I wished, but then Master Lothar bade me not to enter without his permission. He was very clear on this point, but that is your house now, Master Orthos, and this rightly belongs to you.” He deposits the key in the young wizard’s hand.
Orthos looks to his companions.
"What say you all? Shall we camp another night and start fresh in the morning. Or try to sleep the night in the manor itself?"
Mercurio's laugh almost sounds like a snarl. He slips his morning star from his belt, tosses it from one hand to the next. "Fek these boogey-shakes, mate. I c'n be eyes-innat ya sleeps." He winks at Orthos.
"I came prepared to spend the night in a dungeon, Orthos." Salbadore slaps Orthos on the shoulder. "I don't expect it to be as bad as all that, do you?"
"I see no reason to sleep outside. Let's spend the night here."
No one immediately replies to Rolf, and for a moment, there is no movement, no speech, and no sound. Nothing stirs in Finch's cottage.
Salbadore speaks up. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance Henricus. I hope that someday I will have a man as faithful as you to tend to my estate." He turns away with no further formalities. "I'll be outside," he says, "it's a bit stuffy inside just now."
Stepping beyond the threshold, he finds no wind, no birds, and no relief from the oppressive stillness. Though the weather is mild, Salbadore tugs on his collar as if expecting a storm.
He lights his pipe and watches the manor.
Though Salbadore knows better, part of him can't shake the feeling that the manor is watching back...
Laurie smiles. "I certainly am not spending another night outside when it could be in a nice, warm bed."
She hums a lighthearted tune as they wait.
"To the manor it is then. Thank you Henricus, I will endeavor to bring bright times to the manor once again."
Outside, Salbadore squints and pulls tiny wisps of smoke from his pipe, seemingly planting little kisses on its stem as he waits.
He does not take his eyes off the door as he comments to Orthos, "Your uncle has constructed a most imposing home for himself. Better thoughts should prevail, but my kenning tells me we are unprepared."
Finally looking to the others, he continues, "O well, then, let's." He gestures with his smoldering pipe towards the front door.
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