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	[u]Weather[/u]: Overcast and cold. 
 
	[u]Time[/u]: Approaching midday.

	[u]Ambience[/u]: The chill doesn't quite get to freezing temperatures, but it seems like it wants to. Winds kick up a bit, bringing with it the bite of an approaching winter. 


[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center]
[center][img][/img][/center]
[color=darkgray][i]	My Lords and Councillors,

	I shall try to be succinct. There is a great weight taken from the shoulders of the citizens of Avonshire this day. The outside aid which was hired to investigate the recent troubles has quickly succeeded in solving the problem outright. There are continuing issues which must be addressed by skilled professionals and backed up with considerable force of arms. However, because of these brave people, no more of our people will fall victim to Cavendish nor the intentions of his master this day. I can only apologize on behalf of my family for the actions of my cousin-by-marriage and reaffirm my promise of service to Avonshire and the Crown.  

	I have sent formal requests for additional personnel and supplies with this letter. While the greatest threat has been extinguished, there are lingering but important concerns which require attention. Some of Cavendish's minions remain at large. Other innocents are infected and require divine aid. Individual investigations must be started concerning related issues. The Avonshire region has experienced an above average year of production; perhaps our superiors may be persuaded by a temporary increase in taxation in return for additional assistance?  

        To the matter of the adventurers - I wish to retract my original assessment and suspicions about them. They are foreign help and unorthodox to be certain, but have proven to be decisive in action and took some initiative for the common good unprompted. They may deserve greater recognition from a higher placed dignitary than myself. I regard their presence with curiosity as I sent only three letters and more than three arrived; moreover none of the individuals I expected to meet were among their number. Nevertheless, they succeeded. 

        As none of the adventurers have given me an answer as to how I should address them collectively, I have taken to referring to them as the Company of the "Letterbearers of Avonshire." More colloquially among my staff and to the originally dubious nature of their presence, they have been referred to as "The Ones Who Answered." They weren't the ones I intended. But they were the ones who answered the call. Until I receive paperwork stating differently, I shall refer to them as such in future communications.  

        To summarize, we require specialized assistance, an increase of soldiery to keep the peace (these two points outlined in the enclosed proposal), and hopefully recognition for the company of adventurers. 

        Ever in service,


        Gregory Arbalest,
        Sheriff of Avonshire [/i][/color]

[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center]

        [i]Sheriff Arbalest,

        I am unable to meet most of your proposal at this time. Issues elsewhere have diverted resources and manpower to places of greater strategic importance. Unless you have fully drained Avonshire's coffers hiring outsiders to help you do your job, perhaps you may do so again. 

        Office of the Provisional General[/i]

[center][color=darkgray][h2]*****[/h2][/color][/center]

        The caravan of two wagons continues steadily southward, the constant sounds of shod hoof and rimmed wheel upon the mostly level roadway beating out a rhythm familiar to most travelers. Cold air whips up every so often, bringing with it an occasional damp sting, heralding the eventual arrival of early snow. An autumnal rainbow of leaves scatter about the ground, blown by stronger winds from places of arboreal shade to the open, rolling hills and paths among them as a quiet last warning for those still out in the greater world to find their winter place before the coming snows. 

        Cecily and Lizbeth both remain fairly quiet, barring small talk and descriptions of the Rose River Vineyard. The latter they discuss from the perspective of a home rather than a fully staffed and functioning regional producer of wines, grapes, and related goods. [color=darkgray][i]"...and this cove by the river where I used to play, and the plum trees that smell just delightful when they flower..."[/i][/color] This from Lizbeth, who continued, [color=darkgray][i]"...and the whole world opens up on the moors past the old parts of the vineyard, but Grandpa doesn't like for me to go..."[/i][/color] The young girl's words trailed off, apparent memory that her grandfather had passed away and mostly consumed by Goblins prior to burial returning with solidity. She quietly sat back in her seat on the merchant wagon, staring forward. 

        [color=darkgray]"It's getting to be about lunchtime,"[/color] remarked Cecily, noting the abrubt change in her niece's behavior and speaking loud enough for the group to hear. The road was quieter now of traffic and there stood open ground to either side of them, prompting the lady to continue, [color=darkgray]"Shall we stop for a rest or eat as we travel? It is a way, yet, but we should make it before suppertime, regardless. "[/color] She awaited an answer but handed off the reins to Lizbeth while opening her pack to locate some travel worthy edibles.