Breakfast Banter

Being on a covert mission for his Liege and King was not an easy task, indeed, Fred didn't expect it to be. Yet having no friends in this strange western city-state held too many tactical disadvantages. Fred was a knight, a trained Dragon-Hunter, he knew tactics. He rolled what little information he had within his brain: Castellan was a HighMage of good standing though many thought him overbearing and overreaching ~~aren't all magic-users so?~~ thought Fred. Although the WhiteHand held no authority in these lands their place in Allaria was set, and Fred had yet to come across one of those tattooed practitioners who did not feel superior to those who did not possess any magical talent.

His ticket to Castellan the Unifier was Quint, an ex-patriot who King Emry had said was a good man, an honest man, and though not one living under the King's banner, would help in times of need. But how would he find Quint?

"Stranger," came a slurping voice. It was the dirty man who Fred had paid a breakfast. "If'n yer heading northwest head for the Bavar, those gypsykings know how to throw a party! If'n yer headed straight west towards the wilderlands, I doubt I'll see you again."

"And if'n I intend to stay in Vjorica?" asked Fred trying to imitate the man's drawl. "It looks as if this City-state is in a state of civil turmoil--"

"You're a perceptive one, aren't ya!" the man scoffed, giving Fred a dark look. "You picked the wrong time to come sight-seeing, stranger! If'n I were you I'd get the hell out of here before the real turmoil starts!"

Fred was confused. "But I was told that this so-called divided city had been unified by Castellan."

"Oh that it has, that it has," said the man as he took another bite into his meat. "But now we gotta deal with them."

"Them?" repeated Fred with a completely blank face.

"Shhhhhh!" said the man with a little too much exageration. "It may be daylight, but it is said that they can hear through whatever veil separates their world from ours. Even the great and mighty Castellan can't seem to shake the buggers outta here."

Fred was flabbergasted, whatever was happening here it was unknown to King Emry (of course, since the two lands are separated by leagues of wilderness, various principalities, and the occassional lonesome fiefdom, lack of information was to be expected).

"Can't the mages on the other side of town rid this side of whatever ails it?"

"HA!" coughed the man. "As if those octaphysicians would lift a pinky without thought of payment! They want our crops, our leather, our daughters... I tell you it's not worth it."

"But, does not Castellan rule this land? Can he not simply command the mages to apply their trade to this malady?"

Before an answer could be formed the serving wench returned with two glass mugs and a small pewter plate. The man quaffed his ale, draining the entire mug in one long gulp. He belched in Fred's face and set the empty mug down. "Get lost, fool," he says, standing up and making ready to leave. "You don't know much, that be fer sure. If'n I were a betting man I'd wager you won't last the day here, and certainly not the coming eve."

1. Fred still didn't know much, but he knew he had to find out more, much more before the sun went down and a second night would rise...

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