Torsten emerged from the guest room at Wincott's Wares, refreshed and more at ease. The weight of his journey still clung to his shoulders, but the hot bath and a few hours of sleep had done wonders for his disposition. He found Geoffrey waiting for him, a look of concern etched on his usually jovial face.
"Feeling better, old friend?" Geoffrey asked, clapping him on the back.
Torsten nodded. "Much. Thank you for your hospitality."
Geoffrey waved it off. "Think nothing of it. Now, let's head to the keep. We'll see what can be done about your little problem."
They stepped out into the bustling streets of Stoneford. The sun hung high, casting sharp shadows and heating the cobblestones beneath their feet. Torsten walked beside Geoffrey, his gaze sweeping over the crowded marketplace. Despite the warmth and chatter, an undercurrent of tension lingered—a reminder of the bandit troubles plaguing the region.
"These intruders," Geoffrey began, his voice low as they navigated through the throng. "What do you make of them? Poachers or something more sinister?"
Torsten's jaw tightened. "I wish I knew. They claim to be mercenaries, but their presence... it's unsettling. With the Awakening Ceremony approaching, I can't help but worry about the children."
Geoffrey nodded, his expression somber. "I understand your concern. The Awakening is a sacred time, a rite of passage. To have it threatened..." He shook his head, leaving the thought unfinished.
They turned onto a wider avenue, the keep's towering walls coming into view. Torsten felt a pang of disappointment at the Baron's absence but pushed it aside. There were other avenues to explore, other means of securing help.
"Everything will be alright, Torsten," Geoffrey said, as if sensing his friend's turmoil. "We'll find a way. You must keep hope."
Torsten looked at Geoffrey, gratitude welling up within him. "Thank you, Geoff. Your support means more than you know."
As they approached the keep's gate, the guards eyed them warily. Geoffrey stepped forward, his voice smooth and confident as he addressed them. "Good day, gentlemen. We seek an audience with Master Alaric. It's a matter of great importance."
The guards exchanged glances before one of them nodded. "Wait here. I'll inform the Master of your arrival."
Torsten and Geoffrey stood before the imposing gates, the sun beating down on them. Torsten's mind wandered back to Oakhaven, to the worried faces of his friends and neighbors, to the children who deserved a future free from fear. He clung to Geoffrey's words, to the hope that they would find a way to protect their home.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before the guard returned, his expression inscrutable. "Master Alaric will see you. Follow me."
Torsten and Geoffrey exchanged a look, a silent acknowledgement of the task ahead. Together, they stepped through the gates, ready to make their plea for aid. The keep loomed before them, a symbol of power and protection, and Torsten clung to the hope that within its walls, they would find the help they so desperately needed.
Geoffrey and Torsten entered the keep, guided by the guard to the assembly hall at the side of the main castle. The hall was smaller than the grand banquet halls Torsten had heard tales of, but it bore the weight of countless pleas and judgments. The stone walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the Baron's lineage and significant events in the region's history. A large, wooden table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by high-backed chairs.
At the far end of the table, Master Alaric sat, engrossed in a pile of missives. He was a man of middle years, his hair more salt than pepper, with keen eyes that missed little. As Geoffrey and Torsten approached, Alaric sensed their presence and looked up. A warm smile spread across his face as he recognized Geoffrey.
"Geoffrey, it's good to see you," Alaric said, rising from his seat to greet them. "What brings you to the keep today?"
Geoffrey reciprocated the noble gesture, clasping Alaric's forearm. "Master Alaric, always a pleasure. May I introduce Torsten, a trader from the village of Oakhaven. He brings urgent news that requires your attention."
Torsten stepped forward, offering a respectful nod. "Master Alaric, thank you for seeing us. I come from Oakhaven, a small mountain village in the White Peaks range. Our village is in dire need of aid."
Alaric's expression turned thoughtful as he mused over the mention of Oakhaven. Oakhaven, a quiet mountain village known for its herbs and skilled traders. What could possibly bring a man all the way from there to seek my aid? he wondered, his curiosity piqued.
"Please, take a seat and tell me what brings you here," Alaric said, gesturing to the chairs.
Torsten sat, his back straight, hands clasped on the table. He took a deep breath before speaking. "Our village has recently been threatened by a group of armed men claiming to be mercenaries. They have set up camp near our lands, and their presence poses a significant danger to our people, especially with the Awakening Ceremony approaching."
Alaric listened intently, his brow furrowing as Torsten spoke. "I see. And what do these men want? Have they made any demands?"
Torsten shook his head. "None that we know of. Our hunter, Borin, encountered them and was told they were merely passing through, seeking shelter. But their actions suggest otherwise. They are well-armed and have shown no signs of leaving. We fear they may disrupt the ceremony or, worse, bring harm to our village."
Alaric leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the armrest as he considered the situation. "And what is it you seek from the Baron?"
Torsten reached into his pocket, retrieving the letter penned by Hemlock. He slid it across the table to Alaric. "Our elder druid, Hemlock, has written a letter detailing our situation. We seek the Baron's aid in protecting our village and ensuring the safety of our people during the Awakening Ceremony."
Alaric picked up the letter, examining the crest embossed on the seal. He recognized the symbol of the ancient oak, a testament to Hemlock's status and authority. With a nod, he broke the seal and began to read, his expression growing more serious with each word.
As Alaric read, Geoffrey placed a reassuring hand on Torsten's shoulder. The gesture spoke volumes, a silent promise of support and solidarity. Torsten took a deep breath, his hopes resting on the words written by Hemlock and the mercy of Baron Ashworth. The fate of Oakhaven hung in the balance, and Torsten could only pray that their plea for aid would not fall on deaf ears.