Over the past decade, Carver had born witness to all the wonders of Andred. He had ridden through Emerald forests in the height of the spring, scaled mountains that reached up to touch the heavens, worshiped in shrines of marble and cut glass. He had seen the sun set on seaside cliffs and counted all the stars on clear nights, and all these things he took as infallible proof of the love and generosity with which his god had shaped the world. And even so, Riverhope, with its fine buildings and resplendent greenery, was one of the most majestic sights the knight had ever laid his eyes on.

He'd had plenty of time to appreciate it as he rode from the harbor, where the ship that had borne him from Andred had just made berth, to the stable he had been told was nearby, where he could leave his horse for a few nights for a modest fee while he attended to his business in the city. The stable itself was a homely affair that smelled of hay and horses, which Carver supposed was what one looked for in a stable.

He stepped inside, coughing slightly to gain the attention of the elf currently busy shoveling hay into the stall of what appeared to be some sort of giant elk. Carver furrowed his brow at the sight - the South would take some getting used to. "Good day, friend," he spoke, "I am Sir Carver Brightarm, servant of He Who Shaped The Heavens. I was told I might leave my horse here for a time?"

The elf turned to him and bowed low. "You were told true, then. Pay no mind to the price - I'll not take coin from a man of the cloth, whatever god you serve."

"I am no missionary," Carver replied with a smile, his steel-gloved hand already extended with a few coins. "I am a Crusader - an adventurer in search of a righteous cause. I insist you take my coin."

The elf shrugged and pocketed the money before turning back to his task. "Suit yourself. She's the chestnut outside, aye? My boys will bring her in, have no worry. Return for her whenever you like, Carver Brightarm."

Carver brought his hand to his chest and bowed. "May you walk in His beauty, friend." He turned and left, stopping only to pat August on the nose and promise to return for her before he set off in the general direction of the [i]Hearth and Flagon.[/i] He had a summons, after all.

The knight had no idea how the Queen had known he would be arriving - as far as he knew, the Elders of the Order had not sent word of his coming to anyone in the South, and even if they had, the timing of the Queen's invitation would have been extraordinary - the message boy was waiting for him literally as he stepped off the boat. Doubtless there was some form of magic involved - best left to those who understood it, as far as Carver was concerned.

After a brief bit of wandering completely lost through the city, some helpful folks were finally able to direct Carver to the inn. He had little use for taverns like this as a teetotaler, but he was not about the ignore a personal summons from the Queen of this new land. The building was rather unremarkable for a Queen's feasting hall, it had to be said. Carver hesitated only a moment before stepping inside.

The room, true to the invitation's promises, was empty, save for three men - the bartender, a slight elf, and a tanned, rugged looking man, the later two of which were warmly greeting each other. Carver strode up to the pair, armor clanking. "Good day, friends! I am Sir Carver Brightarm, of Andred. How shall I know you?"