Noontime sun filtered through hazy overcast skies above the hamlet of Grayweald. The serfs were out and about now, busying themselves with their daily tasks: splitting firewood, turning over their vegetable gardens in preparation for spring's early crops, and simply moving around to keep warm. As they milled about, they could hear a muffled din coming from the forest beyond the edge of town: the sound hoof-falls from the road.

The monotony of typical village goings-on was instantly shattered as the riders thundered into Grayweald. Their black capes and weaponry gave the newcomers away to the townsfolk, who watched their arrival with palpable unease. These were the dark lord's men; their black capes and armor gave them away at once. Lord Octa's men were a rare sight indeed in backwaters such as these, and nothing good ever came of those few times when the dark lord's men did come to places such as these. The villagers milling about gawked openly, and old women peeked out cautiously from behind window shutters. One of the dark lord's own knights on a warhorse-drawn chariot accompanied by five Black Hats, something bad indeed must have transpired for such a party to be sent to sleepy Grayweald. But perhaps most curious of all was the elven girl standing beside the grizzled knight in the chariot, clad in skimpy garb totally unsuitable for the cold of late winter. What the name of the Gods was she doing with such a party?

Vatikar dismounted from his chariot in the small cobblestone square in the center of the town, prompting the Black Hats to slide down from their steeds.

Go inside with your silver pan and conjure the image of our missing prisoner," Vatikar commanded of Assallya, pointing to the nearby tavern with the name 'Waterfront' painted on a worn hanging sign. As the shackled elf went, the dread knight gestured for one of the Black Hats to follow her inside. "The rest of you lot, come with me."

Sir Vatikar strode to the center of the town square, his cloak-clad retinue gathered around him with heavy crossbows cradled in their arms. The townspeople gathered at the peripheries of the square, anxious to see what this man of the dark lord wanted but too fearful to approach. Satisfied that the better part of the town's men were in earshot, Vatikar cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Subjects of His Majesty Lord Octa, I am Sir Vatikar, and I come before you to request your aid. Not long ago, a prisoner in the custody of his His Majesty was released by agents provocateurs - enemies of the dominion. I have reason to believe that this fugitive is nearby, perhaps even in this very hamlet. Knowing that this is a settlement of loyal subjects with nothing but utmost respect for His Majesty, I expect naught but [i]total cooperation[/i] from you lot in finding these criminals."

"Come with me into the tavern," Vatikar demanded, "and I shall explain how you may be of service to us."

At first, the townspeople hesitated. Vatikar gave a swift nod, prompting the Black Hats to lift their crossbows up a little higher. This small gesture was enough to compel the village men to approach the tavern.