If there was ever such a thing as an ill wind, then now it was blowing. The grey sky rolled overhead like giant waves. The weather had been horrible for days now. Petty peasant folks would believe it to be a bad omen. Yet Ellisandre quite enjoyed it. Most people stayed off the streets lately. Bosfyrd has not been the same since the civil war. The situation only worsened with a Nightborne roaming the streets. Ellisandre was dressed in a large black cloak with a white fur trim. Her somewhat revealing, bright green dress made her stand out even more from the other women in the town. The golden chain necklace continued to accent her features as she walks through the streets in her heeled, leather boots. The men were either too afraid to look or couldn’t tear their eyes off her. Some women suffered the same fate. Though others managed to look her in the eyes, immediately realizing that they were her most striking feature. As red as rubies, they seemed to look straight through anyone who dared to look her in the eye.

Everywhere she went the people fled inside. These days, complete strangers would open their doors should the Witch (a local, poorly chosen nickname) walk the streets. Today they did so again. As soon as they could hear the clicking of her heels the market crowd opened like a sea at the command of a god. Ellisandre greatly cherished the effect she had on a mob. The real victims were the few merchants on the market. Who had nowhere to go. Though today, she first had some other curiosity to satisfy. A few days after the local baron was killed, she had arrived. Her first point of order was to carve a rune in the marketplace, where the poles would be raised around. Over the course of weeks, since she arrived, she heard more whispers about a supposed Ranger of the Nightwoods hanging on those poles. Rather intrigued she decided to visit his corpse. It was a rather macabre scene. Ellisandre got quite used to how much a corpse could stink. But still, she was almost begging the thick, grey skies to break and rain down to wash away the filthy flesh. Though the gods have denied her that little favor for now. A guard, or rather a thug who pulled the shortest lot, stood guard with his halberd near the pole on which the Ranger’s body was chained. When he saw the Witch approach, he tried to get into a more disciplined pose. It didn’t fool her.

“Is this the body of the supposed ranger?” Asked Ellisandre, barely gazing over the ill-equipped man standing guard. “Y-yes, my lady.” The man barely managed to say. At times like these, she wished the people here were more professional. But top mercenary captains were smart enough to ask coin in advance. And well, coin was not something the king had on him. Deeds, on the other hand, were much easier to acquire. “I will assume you are local.” Ellisandre asked with an ice cold voice as she let her eyes descend upon the poor man. Who could do little more than nod. “Tell me  about him.”

“He was a ranger from the Nightwood. His name’s Brand. Not much is really known about him. It’s said he kept the kids of Baron William safe. Or at least, he tried. They say he could talk to trees in the woods and be in seven places at once.” Ellisandre had to grin at the seven appearances. Not entirely impossible but as she saw him hanging here, it felt highly improbable. “He guided me through the woods once, when I got lost. Didn’t say much. Though bandits hated him. Delivered a fair amount of them to the Marshall. Dead and alive.” Ellisandre liked the story. Seemingly sunken deep in her own thoughts, she whispered to herself: “What I wouldn’t do to have your soul added to my collection. If only I got here a week earlier.” She pressed a finger against the dangling leg, the touch seemingly exhilarating her. “Oh what I wouldn’t do right now…” she whispered again before she realized the guard was looking rather strangely at her. Without saying anything more, she turned around and walked back to her rather large house.

On the way, she cherished the many sights of a formerly besieged town. Though it seemed to have been spared from the worst of it. The last of the dead not on display were thrown in the mass grave outside. She would not have valuable resources burned. The ground itself had been cursed to eat away the dead flesh faster. Skeletons were so much more moldable. The first week she arrived the smell of charred wood had dominated the air. Though now it was more a faint aroma hanging in the streets. A kind of incense that could only be enjoyed by the foulest of people. Ellisandre loved it.

When the Dark Elf first arrived at the town, she made short work of a local and claimed his rather large house near the main square. Where promptly no market was held after her arrival. She didn’t levy the taxes or anything and mostly let the thugs do their thing. The Witch was far too busy renovating her new house. As she entered through the door, the many candles ignited in an ethereal, purple light. In the corner of her living room stood a girl, chained to the wall with an empty bowl next to her. If not for the chain, one could mistake her for a simple servant as she was clean and well dressed. “Wake up.” The Witch said with a rather irritated voice. The little girl shot up, looking rather afraid of Ellisandre as she unclasped her cloak. She just dropped it on the ground. “I have a message. Summon the bond.” The little girl just nodded and went to meditate. Ellisandre went to grab a kettle and cup in the meantime. When she returned the girl wasn’t ready yet, so she just decided to make some tea. The kettle was raised off the wooden table by four stone legs. With just one finger she touched the side of the iron. After a few counts, it began to glow a bright red hot. Satisfied, she let the water inside heat up to a boil before she poured it into her cup. After which she added the yellow and green herbs.

“What message do you have?” the little girl suddenly asked. “The king said he would arrive soon to hand me the deeds.” Ellisandre said. “Though it would seem he still has need of my services. A few barons surrounding the Nightwoods are rather tardy when it comes to swearing fealty to the king. As well as deliver the war compensations.” For a moment the girl was quiet, then she began to speak again: “What is that state of the rebellion?” “Non-existent,” Ellisandre said full of confidence. “I am about to ruin the body of the last local martyr.” There was a wicked happiness in her voice. Outside, the caw of crows could be heard. “Some thugs might be annoyed by the lack of coin they’ll receive. But I’ll make short work of them when the time comes.” Once again the girl remained silent for a minute before she once again spoke: “Try to accelerate the acquisition of the deeds. The Nightborne would very much like the possession of Bysford and the surrounding lands and woods. Report when your signature is on the deeds.” Ellisandre gave a mere nod. The girl, in turn, dropped down on her bright red coach again. Asleep. Satisfied with her report, Ellisandre went upstairs to her balcony.

In the market, the carved rune flickered with a pale, green light for a second. The protective spell, keeping the bodies mostly together, began to falter as the faint light died. The Dark Elf knew that after months of exposition, they had finished their job at dissuading an uprising. Especially when the young boy was raised up. Ellisandre felt it’s magic fall. The crows had been picking up on it too. From the nearby Nightwoods she could hear their cawing. Suddenly a dozen corpses were ripe for the taking. If there was ever such a thing as an ill wind, then now it was blowing.