"Ah, Nephew." the Old Baron said. "I was wondering why I had a chill this night." 

Considering this was merely the gatehouse of Chataeu D'Epee, they had walked many paces in order to make it to the Great Chamber they now stood within. The immaculate carpet of blue and gold, sewn meticuliously with images of flying Hyppogriphs and Flower petals shimmering from the heavens was matched by the elaborately vaulted ceiling, mirrored by suits of armor holding finely crafted halberds. The moon paled eerily through the stained glass windows. 

The old Baron sat in his chair of fine oak and red velvet pillows, with an well bred warhound laying at his feet. Behind him was a roaring fireplace, with a stone overmantel that housed various trophies of art and battle. The glowing, wicked mace of a slain Orc Warchief was trophied right beside a lovely flower of unknown like that sat gently atop a Tilean Vase of expensive design. Cyrdic had thought the image of the vast Porte-cochère and the impressive long gallery was dramatic, but this room seemed to be right out of a playwrite's dreams. 

The Baron himself held a nobility to his daunting grey eyes, with a well groomed goatee and a physique that, while now frail, belied a grace and musculature of a former knight and someone whom even now, you mustn't underestimate. His Knights flanked him to his right and left, with his loyal hound's head perked up and attentative. Camilla smiled at the dog. The Ostlander would never know, but the loyal canine reminded her of Cyrdic. 

"Did you tell your trollop of a mother my demands?" he asked in his native tongue, somehow making even a petty insult into a grave threat with but a look. Beaumont did his best not to scowl, though the effort was wasted. His Knights stood behind him, hands close to their swords in case of quick violence. "Judging by your look, I gather not. Why do you come to my domain so armed, and who might these newcomers be? Speak boy." 

"Ware your tongue, Uncle." Beaumont replied in rough Reikspiel, to better honor his guests. "I do not come as an enemy, nor do I seek refuge for my own safety, but those of my guests. Shipwrecked along the coastline. This is Contessa Camilla del La Trantio and Cydric Becker, the Graf of Estabrook. We came upon them being waylaid by common casseurs of the coastline. And I come to take your challenge, to inherit Chateau D'Epee and gain the favor of the Lady by right of quest." 

"Tu n'as pas les hommes ni la force!" Guy gasped, appalled at the proclamation, though he silenced himself with a wave of quiet from the Baron, who seemed perfectly composed. He studied Beaumont for a moment, considering in his grey eyes. "I see. We shall discuss your trial and that of your men tomorrow. As of now, we must adhere to our guests." For the first time, he gazed at Camilla and Cyrdic, an almost grandfatherly smile reaching his face. "These are dark times, and it pains me to here of such news from nobility even not of our fair land." 

"Red Duke, be cursed!" a Knight exclaimed, raising a gauntleted fist as if attempting to summon the very Lady herself to him for her aid. The Baron nodded in agreement, and his hound gave a forlorn howl that echoed across the curved vaulted ceiling and drifted into the antechamber behind them. Baron D'Epee patted his loyal hound on the head. "Indeed, Reynald." he said, and then spoke to Cyrdic and Camilla. "Lady Bless you, my esteemed guests. We shall provide rooms and bath for the two of you." 

"We are...beholden to one another, my lord." Camilla said, her delicate hand slipping into Cyrdic's large fist. To say that Beaumont was shocked was an understatement. The Baron nodded and smiled at the Knight's clear discomfort. "Room, then." 
[@Penny]