Making Haste

We clean and re-wrap Teran's bandages, then wake our rather groggy driver and set out, before dawn. The journey shouldn't take longer than a few hours. We've abandoned any hope of getting new clothes beforehand. Time is too critical to stop, and in any case staying at the inn has streched our finances to the breaking point. We have just enough left to pay the coachman. If John's father won't take us in, we'll be in a dire situation indeed, and have to walk to the nearest town.

We reach Castle Van Alder at about midday. The gatekeeper regards us with understandable suspicion, only finally relenting when I produce John's signet ring as proof of our association with him. We enter the gate and the carriage departs. The gatekeeper tells us to wait in the courtyard while he goes to consult the Master.

Inside the castle grounds, I'm surpirsed by the sense of "newness" about the place. The castle (more of a mansion, really) itself is of white stone and marble, more Romanesque than Medieval, but at the same time seems more modern than what I've seen since coming to this land. The grounds and gardens are well maintained and not overgrown at all. The buildings show little sign of weathering or cracks. My architect's eye might be getting out of practice, but compared to some of the aging stone castles I've seen dotting the landscape, I'd be surprised if this place was more than a dozen years old.

After a few minutes, the gatekeeper returns.

1. "The Marquess will see you. He is very interested in hearing word of his son's whereabouts."
2. "Sir John is no longer welcome here, nor are you, as his friends. The Marquess has requested that you leave immediatley."

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