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[@Mazn Zito] - Asset Goal = ?
[@VoLimiNaL] - Asset Goal = ?
[@MrJack] - Asset Goal = ?
[@Spoiled Bread] - Asset Goal = ?
[@Scarcerushdown] - Asset Goal = ?

[h3][center]From Greybank to Hollow Vale[/center][/h3]

As the conversation in the guild begins to loosen and chairs scrape back into place, a small but important realization settles over Mazn — quiet, internal, and unmistakable. For all his retained memories and past lives, the name Wickerford stirs nothing. No road, no battle, no passing visit, no half-remembered landmark. It is not a place he has forgotten; it is a place he has simply never been. Whatever waits there lies beyond the edges of his lived experience.

The decision, once made, carries the group naturally back out into the daylight of Greybank. The guild door swings shut behind them with a familiar creak, sealing in the warmth and noise, and replacing it with the open sky and the damp, marsh-tinged air of the road. A few passersby watch the odd assembly file out — some curious, some concerned, most quietly relieved that the matter of the lonely request is no longer theirs to consider.

Just beyond the guild annex, where the main road splits into narrower paths, a weathered signpost rises from the packed earth. Its arms are old but legible, carved and repainted often enough to endure. One points back toward Greybank. Another toward distant holdings under Ryken authority. And there, nailed slightly lower than the rest, an arrow marked:

[b]Wickerford — 45 minutes[/b]

The wood beneath the lettering is scarred, as if struck more often than the others. Whether by weather, carts, or hands, it is hard to say.

The road itself narrows quickly once they commit to it. Stone gives way to packed dirt, then to a path hemmed in by reeds and low birch trees. The land flattens, dampens, and quiets. Birds are present, but fewer than expected. The breeze carries the smell of wet earth and slow-moving water, and the farther Greybank falls behind them, the more the road feels like it is being allowed rather than maintained.

About halfway through the journey, the land dips, and the road crosses [b]Harrowfen Bridge[/b].

It is an old thing — older than Greybank’s current layout — a single-arched span of dark stone crossing sluggish, reed-choked water below. Moss clings thickly to its sides, and pale grass grows between the stones where no grass should. The marsh beneath murmurs softly, not quite a sound and not quite silence. From the center of the bridge, Wickerford’s direction is clear… and so is the sense that few linger here longer than necessary.

Beyond the bridge, the village finally reveals itself.

Wickerford sits low against the land, its houses squat and close together, as if huddling. Smoke rises from a few chimneys, but not many. Fields lie worked but minimally so, and the road into the village is lined with fence posts in need of repair. There is no gate, no formal boundary — just a gradual transition from road to home that feels strangely reluctant.

As they approach, several possible paths present themselves without a word being spoken:

- A small square near the center of the village, where a well and a notice board stand mostly unused

- A cluster of homes near the fields, where shutters twitch and curtains part just enough to watch

- A modest shrine by the roadside, worn smooth by years of quiet use

- Or the option to simply ask, risking the attention of locals who very clearly prefer not to be involved

Somewhere in this place is [b]M. Brenwick[/b] — the author of the trembling letter, the mother who broke the village’s silence. Finding her will not require violence… but it will require care.

The road behind them remains open.

The village ahead does not feel welcoming — but it is waiting.

[b]SUMMARIZATION: [/b]As much as Mazn tries to remember, the name Wickerford means nothing. Characters leaves the guild annex and head towards Wickerford. Before reaching the village, they pass Harrowfen Bridge. And, in the village proper, a few options exist to start to search for M. Brenwick.