Cold drizzle fell upon the moss-mottled roof of Rasthomig, the keep and central nexus of puny Eskar. As keeps of the time went, Rasthomig was quite modest; especially modest given that this particular keep served as the seat of power for an exarch of Izalith's grand empire. Those exarchs in the more prosperous Motherlands to the south ruled over their dominions from mighty citadels defended by small armies, mages, and magical constructs. But Rasthomig, in contrast, was little more than a stone-built lodge built atop a low-built platform of stonework overlooking the town. Such rude fortifications would elicit laughter from the denizens of greater cities such as New Galenave or Adarza, but Rasthomig's stone walls and lichen encrusted shingles were strong enough to withstand the rain and retain the warmth of the fire hearths. For the folk that called this keep home, that was enough.

Stewardess Helkha watched morosely from the head of the table as the rain pattered against the dining hall's paneled windows, observing as day morphed into night in gloomy dusk. The dreary weather outside the keep should have made the firelit warmth inside all the more cozy. Such coziness only elicited guilt from the Stewardess, reminding her of the misery her beloved brother was enduring half a world away on the fringe of Ethica. Helkha could not forget that last moment where she had seen Vadigar through her scrying orb, clutching his cape against a furious blizzard, shivering so furiously. Even now she wished she had disobeyed him all those years ago, that she had left Boria and the tedium of statecraft and imperial politics behind to support Vadigar in whatever Mother-forsaken hell he found himself.

As much as she wished she could change the past, the Stewardess remained here in Eskar serving as Izalith's representative in the realm of Boria. It was an important post, to be sure; the realm of Boria was relatively new to Izalith's dominion. Installing an imperial government in a land where tribal society was so deeply ingrained was a important task - unenviable as it may be. Without careful governance and direction, the Borians could easily revert to the old ways, and from that point revolt against the empire would be nearly certain. The Borians, particularly the horsemen living in the hill country north of the Weald, would never heed the command of some imperial magistrate appointed by an exarch in the Motherlands. The people of Boria would only ever heed a fellow Borian, and among their people there was no one more universally-respected than Helkha save for Vadigar himself. Reminding herself of this fact, Helkha withdrew from her reverie and resigned herself to her role as the Stewardess.

A plate of thick stew of pork and squash grew cold in front of her, and she began prodding a fatty chunk of pork about with a spoon as she took stock of the Rasthomig court seated around her at the dining table. A dozen or so of her advisers, courtiers, and visitors dined around her discussing the events of the day in between loud slurps of stew - an even mix of native Borians and imperial appointees and advisers.

"I'm not sure I can believe that," Helkha heard an imperial guest exclaim dubiously. "His spies are [i]certainly[/i] in Doma, that I can believe. But Colonia Mania? What could possibly compel the Lord of Sheol to send his spies this far west?"

"All I shall say is that I have it on good authority that a scrying orb was found on the person of a supposed hillman that had been living within the palisades of Colonia Mania," Hemigan, a balding, geriatric native of southern Boria and the Stewardess' closest thing to a spymaster reported. "A scrying orb carved from obsidian of such blackness that no one could ever see who or what watches from the other end. Even so, there is little doubt as to where something like [i]that[/i] originated."

"What would interest him out here?" The imperial reiterated. "The Lord of Sheol seems to concern himself with embarrassing the other archons and extending his reach across the coast. He surely does not care about these undeveloped backwater tracts of the empire."

"No offense intended, milady," the imperial visitor added apologetically.

"None taken," Helkha replied dispassionately.

"I suspect that the Master of Sheol is probing for weaknesses, perhaps determining the strengths of his enemies," offered Hemigan.

"Enemies?" the imperial nearly scoffed. "Rivalries, certainly, but enemies? To suggest that there are enemies within the Mother's dominion strikes me as almost unthinkable. In spite of our differences we are, after all, one empire."

"To hold an opinion that naive strikes [i]me[/i] as unthinkable," Hemigan retorted. "As someone with some knowledge on this sort of affair, I have no doubt that spies in the employ of nearly every archon and a great many of the exarchs have their informants abroad. The Master of Sheol simply possesses the most advanced surveillance apparatus in the land. I would make a sizeable wager that there are foreign spies here in Eskar even now."

"In Boria?" exclaimed an imperial merchant whose demeanor suggested he had a few cups too many of barley wine. "What would a spy relay to their masters about this place? The number of sheep? Depth of the mudholes in the roads?" The merchant bellowed, eliciting some laughter from his fellow guests.

"Whether Vadigar is coming back," Hemigan corrected solemnly. He could see the Stewardess cringe at the very utterance of her brother's name.

"Speaking of which, has anything been heard from Lord Vadigar, milady?" Baronet Galakhad asked. "I would much like some word from our lord."

[i]As would I[/i], Helkha thought.

"It has been some time since I have last heard from Lord Vadigar, Knight-Commander," the Stewardess reported. It had been nearly a year now since the siblings had last communicated by scrying orb, to be more precise. As the anniversary of that last conversation drew nearer, Helkha's mind filled with dread. She hoped that Vadigar had simply broken his scrying orb in his long march through the mountains, but in her mind she could not help but paint gruesome images of more macabre fates.

The Stewardess withdrew into reverie once more, pondering about where her beloved brother might be at this very moment. She paid no mind to the conversations going on around the table and scarcely acknowledged the kitchen maids as they went about the table taking the bowls of stew and replaced them with trays of honey-candied apricots. With no interest in the desserts nor the after-dinner discussions, the Stewardess was just about to excuse herself to retreat to her bedchambers. Before she could bid the diners good evening, the dining hall's doorway was thrown open. Felegad, Rasthomig's courier boy, stood in the gaping doorway joined by two kettlehat-sporting keep guards.

"Milady!" the squeaky-voiced lad announced, silencing the dining hall as he approached the Stewardess with a tightly-bound scroll with no fewer than six intricate seals. "A rider has come from Doma, bringing word from Regent Master Ai. He bids you read it at once."

Wide eyes followed the courier boy as he presented the scroll to Stewardess Helkha, bowed once, and promptly left the dining hall.

Correspondence with the archon's regent was not terribly unusual. Helkha and Ai had come to become good friends since Vadigar's departure, and Helkha had come to see the Regent Master as a surrogate brother in Vadigar's long absence. As such, scrolls from Ai were not unusual. What [i]was[/i] unusual was the sense of presumed urgency with this particular missive. Why could this scroll not wait until morning? With a raised eyebrow, Helkha drew a butterknife from the table -still clean- and separated the rose emblem seals from the celemworm silk of the parchment before unfurling the scroll and reading silently to herself. All the diners at the table watched with held breath as the Stewardess' eyes scanned across the letter, looking for some indication as to what the archon's regent so urgently needed to convey to the Stewardess. Only the soft roar and crackle of the dining hall's fireplaces and the pattering of rain were heard as Helkha read to herself.

With wide eyes, the Stewardess furled the scroll back on itself and rose from her seat.

"Arrange to have the maids pack my belongings and ready my steed in the morning. Regent Master Ai has summoned me to Doma."