[i]Cowritten by @Mardox[/i]

[u][b]The Grandmaster Arrives[/b][/u]

The four travellers found themselves walking through the tight streets of Mirador, which had an almost pristine white sheet over them as a result of the snowfall. As much as the group would have preferred staying in the carriage, especially for the uphill journey still to come, they had to leave the wagon and horse at the stables – at the entrance to the town. The snow crunched under their feet as they walked.

Their trek mostly passed by in silence, save for Athaliah’s occasional complaints about the placement of the stables or the upcoming hill. “Hey, Herb? Erika?” Rhiara said, sounding slightly uneasy. “After this feast we’re going our separate ways, aren’t we?” 

"I guess so." Said Herbert with a shrug. "If you like, we can stay with you until you're back in Hoffen. Especially if you don't feel safe on the roads, it seems they've gotten worse lately. Why do you ask?"

Rhiara began fiddling with her own hands. “Well… it’s just that I’ve got used to the company of you two, is all. Ath might not say it, but she has too. What I’m trying to say is that I feel like I’ve made some good friends on this journey, and that’s not something I’d thought would happen.”
“I   can hear all of that,” Athaliah patted her friend on her shoulder. “Let’s not be so glum, eh Rhi? We came here to have fun and a feast,  and  that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

"Oh."  Said Herbert with surprise. "Well, I've enjoyed your company as well, and  would be happy to call the two of you friends. I'm sure Erika and  I  could visit you in Hoffen sometime." He looked to Erika, who had donned a large, furry cloak over her party dress. Erika nodded. "I'd  certainly  like that. Is there any particular time you'd like to see us again?"

“Whenever is convenient for you two.” Athaliah replied. The group were now making  their way up the hill towards the keep. “We like you two a lot, but you  should think about your own lives before seeing us.” Rhiara nodded in agreement. “If you ever decide to visit, the end of a month is a good  time; we usually have little going on at that time.”

Erika nodded. "The end of the month sounds good, though it might not be the best time when the full moon starts coinciding with it. Business tends to pick up for the both of us around then. Feel free to swing by Viarosa  sometime. Chances are that I'll be around and Herb is around whenever he can be. If not, you could always meet the others from Krossavik."

“They’re in Viarosa too?” Rhiara said, clearly surprised. “I suppose you’re all close, then?” 

"Oh yes," replied Erika, "we're as close as family. After the dragon   attacked, it was agreed that we should stick together. Just tell them you're friends with Herbert and me."

The four finally found themselves facing the doors of the keep. “So… do we   just walk in?” Rhiara asked uncertainly. Athaliah shrugged. “That’s  what  the guards at the main gate said.”

“Do any of you want to go first? You know how I am with new people. What  if  a paladin talks to me and makes me represent the group?” she was getting worried, clearly, and she was also concerned that Herbert and Erika would feel like they were being thrown into the deep end. Really, Rhiara felt that one of them would actually be the best choice.

"I'll go first." Volunteered Herbert to put an end to the purple-eyed girl's anxiety. "I don't mind representing the group to any chatty paladins." With that, he stepped forward and moved to open the door.

Just as they approached the doors to the great hall, they both swung open wide, revealing one of the many knights of the Order. He froze in place, looking Herbert over for a moment. Eyeing the monster-hunter from head to toe, he nodded to him and said, "Aye, you match Captain Jorleifsson's description alright. I take it you are Herbert Leintke?"

"That I am." Replied Herbert. "With me are Rhiara Ludenburg, our friend Athaliah Priscou and my beloved, Erika Nilsson." He gestured to each of the women in turn. "May we come in?"

"Well absolutely, I was just on my way to come escort you folks into the keep anyways," the man said with a hearty laugh. "Right this w-"

As he spoke, he was cut off by the sound of roaring fanfare echoing through the valley. Brass and percussion alike signalled the arrival of the chief guests of honour. Behind Herbert and his party, further back in the courtyard, a convoy of carriages came moving up towards the   fountain in the center of the keep's yard. Behind the carriages (and to some extent, besides them), a horde of townspeople and knights had congregated, applause and vocal prayers and hymns being said and sung, all melting into barely more than white noise.

Erika swiftly and skillfully guided the group out of the newcomers' way. "Let's give the bigshots their fancy entrance, shall we?" 

“Fashionably late to their own feast, huh?” Athaliah muttered. “If I was fashionably late for my dinner, mother would have gone mad. You know the Orc berserkers they tell tales about? They have nothing on my mum.”

The four of them watched from the side as the convoy approached, curious as  to who or what all the fuss might be about. Each  carriage was  identical to the others, keeping the exact position of the most valuable individual within the convoy a mystery. Trusted soldiers  of  the Order approached each carriage and opened their doors. From the first in the convoy, two humans, one an darker-skinned Aesernian, the other, Bryonic (Narbosi, from his ebony locks, for shades of brown, blonde and red characterized Bryons from the Island). The Bryonic fellow  stepped out of the carriage first, dressed in rather heavy  looking  steel plate armor, addressing the crowds with a wave. He was  followed by  his Aesernian companion who carried over his shoulder a sizable sack, possibly filled with personal belongings.

From the third carriage, three individuals stepped out onto the snowy ground, one at a time. First, another Bryonic, this one very clearly  from Cainleath, going from his cinnamon red hair. He and the Sun Elf woman to his right wore similar, flowing white robes, trimmed with a gold coloured fabric. Priests, from the looks of it. To the human's left, an Aesernian woman of diminutive stature with a small trunk strapped to her back. The lass was stronger than her tiny frame let on. Each lifted their hands up, humbly waving to the commoners and  soldiers  alike as a line of troops formed to keep the tide of people away from these apparently important individuals.

First in the convoy, three additional people exited their carriage, hailing the cheering crowds delightedly. The first two had the tell-tale dark brown skin of Cathionic humans, though the lightly armored fellow to  the  far left of the trio was much lighter in complexion. Between them stood a towering, muscular, fair-skinned and fair-haired woman clad in a  suit  of steel armor, not dissimilar from the Narbosian's. There was no  doubt in anyone's mind that she was a Daughter of Osland, though her sheer size would inevitably lead the more imaginative to assume she was also a daughter of a giant, whether halfling or pure - more likely the  former.

And finally, last in the line of carriages, appearing to be tightly packed as the door opened up, out stepped a Sun Elf in dark azure robes. He smiled confidently at the crowds and turned to help another Cathionic human out of the wagon. Notably, he was draped in a thick and fluffy blanket, his bare feet hitting the snow hesitantly. Patting the man on the shoulder, he summoned over a knight and muttered something to him;   likely a command to take the nearly nude man into the keep. With him out of the way he turned back to the crowds and waved, smoothing the  front  of his robes. He looked to be a lithe elf, not the type one would assume to be a warrior of any sort, though if he didn't look to be  clergy, he  may well be a mage. Which was likely, as his people had a strong natural affinity for magic. He seemed to be the most well  groomed of the group  of people that had made their appearance this  evening, his sun-gold hair  and skin equally immaculate, not a speck of  dirt on him. Rather out of  place given the time and circumstances.  Though he did seem to have smudged something on his robe, perhaps wine  or the filling of some  pastry, and if one were notably good at reading individuals, the elf was  slightly distressed over the matter, as calmly  as he tried to present himself. Quintessential elf...

Then from the carriage, a Samothaur stepped out onto the snow, smiling faintly at the crowd as she turned back around to face the open door of the carriage. She was an unusual sight to say the least, as the Samothaurs were a fiercely xenophobic people with a long history of   being a popular choice among slavers of all races to capture and sell to the pompous Shadow Elven lords of the North or the brutal Orcish warlords that roamed the Northern Plains and Southern Deserts. She had a strong, yet plump, stocky physique under the layers of gambeson and mail that served as lightweight and effective protection from most weapons from close or long range. Given the powerful bow strapped  around  her and the quiver stuffed full of bodkin arrows, she appeared to be an  archer.

The clamour of the peasants and knights alike seemed to boom ever more thunderously as the last person to exit the carriages made his appearance. A tall, strong human in ornate steel plate stepped out onto the snow, holding his helmet under his arm. He was Aesernian by most  of  his features, in particular his sun-kissed complexion and slightly aquiline, narrow nose. Yet his oddly golden hair and cerulean eyes -- much more at home on a Nord's head than an Aesernian's -- would muddle most preconceptions as to his heritage. He smiled warmly to the people frantically pushing against the line of guards. He approached the  guards  slowly, gesturing for them to stand aside.

In  an unexpected orderly, quiet fashion, he reached out to those close to   him, mumbling prayers in High Aesernian, misty particles and sparks of golden light dancing about his hands and digits. Arms reached out for   him, the occasional outstretched hand brushing past his cloak and armor. "It it good to see all of you," he clearly stated, switching  back to  the common tongue of Low Aesernian. He looked up and around the courtyard as the snow fluttered to the ground around him. "It's  just as I  remember it all." Looking back to the people who had gathered before him, he nodded and added, "Come, out of the frost and into the  Keep, and  may the common eat as royalty." He stepped away, adjusted his cloak, gestured to his close followers who had disembarked from the  four  carriages, and took point, moving towards the Keep and towards Herbert and his party.

The pair from Krossavik watched the procession with moderate interest, blinking in confusion as the nearly naked Cathionic exited one of the carriages. As the man's bare feet hit the snow, Herbert quietly murmured in Erika's ear. "I now remember why we normally avoid the  Order. Folks as devout as them are completely and utterly mad. I mean sure, we offer the odd prayer, but I don't think either of us would walk barefoot in the snow for our faith."

Erika gave a stifled snort of laughter. "I don't think that's why he's barefoot." She whispered back. "He's probably just some beggar they found and took pity on." The healer paused. "Then again, some folks can find anything in religious texts if they look for long enough."

The couple hushed and fixed more serious expressions as the Aesernian man approached. Once he had drawn nearer, Herbert gave him a respectful nod and Erika gave a quick curtsy. Neither bowed, though they were uncertain  if that was a form of address expected by the man. Herbert watched very closely as the light danced around the Aesernian's hands. It was clearly magic and that meant that something was not as it  appeared. The man didn't appear to be a Solymic, so that left three options for where  his magic was coming from. The first and probably least alarming  possibility was that the man was a magical creature in  human form or at  least part magical creature like Erika. The second possibility with moderate alarm was that this man was willing to expend  blood for a  parlour trick. The final and likely most damning possibility was that  the man had made some sort of bargain for his power or otherwise earned  the favor of an entity that could grant it to him.

Keeping these possibilities in mind, Herbert idly let his hands drift down  near  the hilts of his swords. He took great care not to actually touch  them, it would be the height of folly to display hostility regardless  of  whether this man meant to do harm. If this strange golden man  didn't mean the four of them harm, there was no point in offending his  hosts.  If the golden man did mean harm, it simply wouldn't do to let him know that Herbert was onto him. The scarred traveller lightly  drummed his  fingers against his thigh. To the overwhelming majority of  folk, it would have been a meaningless display of energy and possibly  impatience.  Erika, however, knew exactly what it meant. It was a signal they had made up to subtly communicate to one another if they  suspected danger.

The Aesernian and his ten companions stopped short of the Keep, just before Herbert, Erika, Athaliah, and Rhiara. The accompanying crowd and guards stopped a short distance away from the fifteen warriors. The golden-haired Aesernian took a moment to size Herbert up before  offering his hand with a smile, displaying his teeth. "Ah, yes, I don't believe  we've met, but I've heard so much about you, Ser Leintke!" he said. "My name is Lucian Aquila."

Up close, he looked nothing like the countless rumours portrayed him to   be. Neither was he a towering, brutish, scarred-up titan in his middle years, nor was he a wizened, bearded sage. In fact, he looked to be   still well into his youth, and had only a modest stubble on his face - hardly worth calling a beard. Or at least, not a beard as large and full as those on Nordic men.

Herbert accepted Lucian's hand and shook it with a polite smile. "I've heard a great deal about you as well, Ser Aquila. However, I must admit that a sizable amount - if not most - of it is no doubt untrue. Perhaps you could clarify what is fact and what is fiction in regard to yourself?" He'd heard of Lucian Aquila and relaxed a little to hear the name. At the very least, they would be safer due to the man's need to maintain his reputation. The origins of his magic were still unclear, however. If anything, they were further muddied by the rumors surrounding the Grandmaster of the Order. Why, some folk even believed he was the son of Solanius.

The Grandmaster shrugged casually. "Why certainly. You can ask me anything once we're all inside. We'll have plenty to discuss over the feast, I would imagine," he replied. He turned to Rhiara and offered his hand to her. "If it isn't Ms. Ludenburg. Quartermaster Alvar wouldn't stop about how you and Herbert slayed that basilisk; word traveled quickly, and I  just had to meet you all."

Rhiara shook he Grandmaster’s hand, somewhat softly. Everything about her stance, from her crossed legs to her fiddling with her clothes,  screamed ‘not confident.’ “It’s nice to meet you, Grandmaster Aquila.”

"Come now, no need to be shy. It's an honour to meet you both, and -- oh, I beg your pardon, I can't say I'm familiar with your companions?" Lucian said to both Herbert and Rhiara.

“My name is Athaliah Priscou, Grandmaster.” In contrast to Rhiara,  Athaliah  looked more confident than one might have expected; she held  her arms behind her back, stood as straight as she could and she looked  the  Grandmaster in the eyes. “I’m Rhiara’s best friend.”

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Priscou," came the reply.

Herbert's smile was more genuine now as he introduced Erika. "This is my  beloved, Erika Nilsson. Since we've brought up slaying beasts, she once  slew a  werewolf in unarmed combat." Erika blushed somewhat at that and  objected  slightly. "That's only [i]techically[/i] true and that was with you fighting it, using silvered weapons and magic." With no weapons or armor and bundled up in her furred cloak, she certainly didn't look particularly dangerous. In fact, the more chivalrous-minded  might have  worried for her safety if she traveled the roads alone.

"Is that so? I'm eager to hear more of the tale, then!" Lucian said with a warmhearted, genuine laugh. "After you, my newfound friends," he added, bowing respectfully to Herbert and his companions. The fifteen warriors began moving to the Keep again, followed by those soldiers and  commoners who sought to join the feast.

The Samothauress accompanying Lucian leaned towards Herbert's party to speak to them in a hushed voice. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a scarlet-haired woman in bard's clothing and a Furusiyya in your  travels, have you?" she asked, a touch meekly, "That poor man in the  blanket was  robbed blind and left to walk to civilization in the snow  when we chanced upon him. Says his father's lute was taken, too."

Erika shook her head. "The only criminals we came across on our way here  were  the sort no sane woman would willingly keep company with, and even that mad faith of the East would demand better behavior. We'll keep an  eye out though. That sounds like a rather distinct pair, and if they would leave a man naked in the winter, they should be caught."

"Absolutely," said the Sun Elf to Lucian's right. "And if they're dressed as a bard   en route to Mirador, no doubt they're here to steal Seneschal Hristov's belongings. I recommend you keep a firm hand on your coin purses until we find the two and sever their fingers from their hands."