Camilla turned the letter over in her hands. It was thick vellum rather than the milled paper more common in the Empire and sealed with one of the Count’s seals, the heraldric device pressed into red wax. The whole group was watching her, even the bleary eyed Konrad, so without wasting time she broke the seal and unrolled it and began to read aloud:

Dear Companions,

You are requested and required to present yourself to the Counts palace for dinner tonight. He is eager to hear the tale of the Heroes of Nordland, which he expects will bring honor and luster to his hall.

Dinner will be served at the eigth tolling of the bell. YOU MUST NOT BE LATE.

Prima spilla grande prima spilla piccola seconda spilla grande media seconda spilla media

“You slipped into Tilean,” Cydric interjected. Camilla looked up in mild annoyance, shifting the uncomfortable blanket across her skin.

“No I didn’t, it is written in Tilean,” she responded, her tone a little vexed. Skaldi shook his head impatiently. He ground a fist against his eye with frustration. The dwarf was pulling on an apron in preparation for starting the lunch stew.

“Lets pretend we don’t all speak Tilean girl…”

Camilla looked around in wide eyed theatrical shock.

“Oh? People talking in a different language, that must be terrible…” she smirked. Skaldi growled but she was already going on.

“It is talking about pins and distances it sounds like…” she looked up in perplexity. Dietricha was cryptic and vague at the best of times but this seemed to reaching new depths. For a moment she considered what she would say. 

“It sounds like instructions for picking a lock,” she admitted. It wasn’t really her area of expertise though as a child she had engaged in some petty thievery. Ricardo, her long time friend had been much more of an expert at this sort of thing.	

“It is signed Dietricha...and Yantz,” she turned to the mercenary her voice taking on a sharper more accusatory tone. He clutched his own blanket to his body and held up a hand as though to shield himself from her words.

“Why is this dated tomorrow?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. The Imperial flushed.

“Why do people always assume that I know what is going on?” he protested rhetorically. Camilla sighed and tossed him the note. She didn’t know if they were supposed to be at the palace tonight or tomorrow.

“Then go and find out,” she said pleasantly before turning the blanket fanning up provocatively like a ball gown.

“I’m going to get dressed.”
[@POOHEAD189]