[h3]Roderick[/h3]
[hr]

The two friend strode down the narrow streets toward the tall spires of the Town Hall, easily spotted as they towered over the thatched rooves of the common folk. They dodged potholes filled with water from the nights rain and the ever present cow pies that littered the road as the farmers drove their stock into town. The sun, at least, was out, and had begun to chase the morning chill away when they ventured outside.

Their night, and the breakfast, had been unremarkable. Pushing a pair of benches together and wrapping themselves in blankets provided by the barmaid had provided them a warm and affordable place to stay. Admittedly it could have been more comfortable, but those with limited coin could not be choosy. Better than another night in the woods, after all. 

Roderick was painfully aware that he smelled wet, despite drying out in the tavern. He hadn't bathed in a day or two and was feeling a bit gamy as they approached the town square. The paving stone expanse was mostly intact, a pair of peasants replacing two cracked tiles near the centre of the space. There were overseen by a bored looking village reeve who spared the two men a nod and a polite word to the sigmarite. 

"Decent looking building for a place like this, eh?" Roderick commented as he looked up at the clocktower, admiring the polished glass and second hand that ticked away faithfully behind it. Brandt grunted an agreement. He was less of a morning person than his friend and was likely to remain somewhat "stoic" until the sun had climbed a bit higher in the sky. Maria on the other hand was fair giddy with excitement, earnestly sniffing at everything she encountered, snapping her teeth at a horses heels and trotting quickly after the two men when a drover snapped his long whip at her. 

It was not hard to find Sebastian Johan Bock, the man stuck out a fair in a town where most folk wore homespun brown linen garments. The red and green robes of his office, fancy golden chain, and staff, marked him at once as an important man. He looked almost as out of place as an Orc in a nunnery. The two approached him with a confident stride, noting that they were the first to arrive. Not that Roderick was much surprised. Getting up early was his trademark. 

"Sebastian Johan Bock, I presume?" The young priest held out a hand. Bock took it, his wrist limp, and grimaced at the grip.

"Yes, and you are?" His voice was strangely high pitched and Roderick had to fight down a grin. Even Brandt seemed amused.

"Brandt the Brave and plain old Brother Roderick," He glanced at the dog who was eyeing Bock with something between disdain and curiosity. "And Maria."

The man nodded and glanced behind them to where other figures were emerging into the square. "Thank you for coming. We'll wait for the rest."