The winds chimed loudly when the day rose. Lordani had just locked her bag when Faye hurried them to go. She did not disagree: there was something in the cold air that made her vaguely concerned.
Raibeart was busy flaying the wolves when the tiefling called, but was even quicker to put away his belongings and join the others. They were all shivering. The road seemed half buried under the heavy snow, its trail barely noticeable after that long night. The dwarf took a closer look at the path they should follow and proceeded with sure feet. The others went right behind, tied together with pieces of rope to ensure that no one would wander away from one another in the mist that started to appear.
The march was long and hard for young Faye, used to the comfort of her family's titles. Yet, something inside her rekindled the desire for adventure, as if a little fire was warming her within in spite of all the gruesome killings from the day before. She discovered in herself swift hits and sharp senses, not only enough to break into the Mayor's bedroom, but to survive a pack of wolves!
Lordani seemed to read into her thoughts. "Looking forward for more challenges?"
Faye blushed. "What? No. I'm gonna puke if you keep reminding me", lied the little woman.
"Oh, excuse me, Miss Fluffybutt. What is this attitude? The blood didn't seem to have bothered you yesterday."
"It did, it really did. I can't stop smelling rust."
"It'll pass. Or you'll get used to it, eventually." Lordani was almost condescending.
"I hope not", replied Faye. "I had enough for a lifetime."
The tiefling then thought of her past, of her mother. Of her band of brothers. Of their unsung tragedy. She shook her head and tried to keep the bad thoughts away from her mind. "I hope not too", she said. After that, silence fell, and so did the snow on the white laden earth.
"Guddamit, what's this? I hate bifurcations!"
The impatience in Raibeart was heartfelt. They walked for hours and covered twenty miles, and now the night was falling again and the fear of wolves or worst things grew in them.
He gave a closer frown to the place where the paths diverged: to the northwest the road cut through a huge rock and went ever down the earth; to east, it broke into pebbles and proceeded beyond sparse woods.
Soon Faye discovered a hint in a wooden sign obscured in the mist thick in the air. It pointed to the east-sided road and enlisted a few names that she recognized as farms and states. They felt so tired after the remembrance of good food and shelter somewhere that they were quick to agree to go there, even if Faye reminded all that those places were probably abandoned after the plague that befell the region years ago.
The weather was growing heavier as they went, chilling the bones and silencing their voices. As the road bent and turned, they saw themselves walled by firs and oaks. Closer to the edge, they saw a wooden cart, broken and half-buried under dirt and snow. A horse skeleton poked his skull over the soil with intriguing dark holes for eyes, and the trio decided to move faster. The cold was starting to get inside their heads more than they needed to.
A few moments later, they came across a side-road going up some sort of hill. Raibeart went ahead as to check for suspicious tracks but found nothing, except that a few orcs had made their movement further on the road and that the path to the hill was as clean as a baby's butt.
With a grunt, the Drabembur led them up and up. They crossed what seemed to be the entrance to the state and a few minutes later they found what seemed to be a little people's mansion.
Lordani was the first to feel a bit disappointed. "I won't fit in there, folks."
"Maybe you should check the barn?", said Faye, slightly contemptuous. She was ready to plunge into that abandoned place as if it was just sitting there waiting for her with a warm fireplace and a few cocktails ready for action.
The state was clearly abandoned. It was built on the top of a hill, and it stood like a crown, a clearing surrounded by descending woods. The sky was grey and darkening, so they decided to make the best of the situation and protect themselves from the oncoming storm. Lordani found some roof in the stables, about one hundred fifty feet from the house. Luckily, sometimes little people were cheeky enough to use horses instead of ponies on their errands.
Inside the mansion, Faye and Raibeart found creaking doors and dusty floors. The place looked as if it had been abandoned in a rush. There was a study with empty shelves and a fireplace with burned books and documents. In the ashes, Faye found what seemed to be a burned picture of a couple. The husband was blackened by the fire, by the wife... She knew her. She was her friend not that many years ago. What was her name again? Faye could not remember. Vaguely, she reminisced of the girl's departure, her leaving of the Capital to somewhere else. Maybe she moved in here? Maybe she married really young. Faye could not remember clearly. She kept it to herself and followed Raibeart in the exploring of the place.
After a few moments they had already checked every room in the ground floor: the kitchen, almost untouched by the rushed moving away by the previous owners; the bathroom, which was basically a hole in the stony floor; and the dinner hall. It was wide and exquisite, and probably much dear in its golden age. The chandeliers gave the tone of the balls that may have happened there and a taste of the Republic's aristocrats. In the center, a huge wooden table, however, was the piece of furniture that held all the attention of Raibeart and Faye. Made of an ironwood so fine and sturdy it seemed made of bedrock.
Raibeart was puzzled. "What's this?"
"I don't know. Some sort of ironwood? It's quite popular with whoever has the coin in the Republic, but I don't know anything about the tree it comes from."
The two then went for the upper floor. Raibeart walked down the corridor to discover the bedroom of what seemed to be a couple. The bed was overlooked by a dossel and the curtains were still hanging.
Raibeart moved his hand closer to the dark blue drapes and opened it... to find a little woman corpse in her perpetual slumber.
At the same time, a scream echoed from up the corridor. Raibeart run and found Faye, shocked and in disarray facing one of the rooms. He put her aside and looked into the empty space.
A little man was hanging from the ceiling. His back faced the door, his head falling in an unnatural manner over his shoulders.
Beside him, an open wardrobe. A single wedding gown, of pearled colors and a distinct look.
Raibeart did not know what that meant, but saw the horror in Faye's eyes. She was probably awestruck by the discovery of the dead man, that was for sure. Maybe she never saw one.
Faye was out of herself. She was trembling from the impact, afraid of recalling any memories. She had never before witnessed a suicide, even if one that had already happened. She shut her eyes and left for the living room, sitting in a chair and waiting for the sleep to take her away.
And then she woke up, in the kitchen. Raibeart had prepared a fire in the oven and was already laid, sideways facing the warmth. Faye could hear the storm breaching the wooden boards of the house, as if the wind was tramping over and over the mansion out of congealed anger. The young little noble felt that the worst had passed, however, and tried not to think too hard about the hanged man on the floor above.
That night was very long and very white. The mansion shackled and rumbled horribly, but in the end the three companions saw the light of the morning after. The snow had invaded parts of the mansion and they had some difficulty walking over the powdered ice, but at last Lordani appeared to help them moving outside.
The day was clear and blue. Far away, Raibeart noticed that the white orc tribes were signalling messages through smoke and found out that there was a war happening between distinct clans. That ought to be good for them after all, so the less attention they would draw.
After a reinforced breakfast, the trio departed from that estate, never to return. The mystery of the mansion was never solved. The tale of the dead wife, the hanged man and the wedding dress is still untold to this day.
A few moments later, they came across a side-road going up some sort of hill. Raibeart went ahead as to check for suspicious tracks but found nothing, except that a few orcs had made their movement further on the road and that the path to the hill was as clean as a baby's butt.
With a grunt, the Drabembur led them up and up. They crossed what seemed to be the entrance to the state and a few minutes later they found what seemed to be a little people's mansion.
Lordani was the first to feel a bit disappointed. "I won't fit in there, folks."
"Maybe you should check the barn?", said Faye, slightly contemptuous. She was ready to plunge into that abandoned place as if it was just sitting there waiting for her with a warm fireplace and a few cocktails ready for action.
The state was clearly abandoned. It was built on the top of a hill, and it stood like a crown, a clearing surrounded by descending woods. The sky was grey and darkening, so they decided to make the best of the situation and protect themselves from the oncoming storm. Lordani found some roof in the stables, about one hundred fifty feet from the house. Luckily, sometimes little people were cheeky enough to use horses instead of ponies on their errands.
Inside the mansion, Faye and Raibeart found creaking doors and dusty floors. The place looked as if it had been abandoned in a rush. There was a study with empty shelves and a fireplace with burned books and documents. In the ashes, Faye found what seemed to be a burned picture of a couple. The husband was blackened by the fire, by the wife... She knew her. She was her friend not that many years ago. What was her name again? Faye could not remember. Vaguely, she reminisced of the girl's departure, her leaving of the Capital to somewhere else. Maybe she moved in here? Maybe she married really young. Faye could not remember clearly. She kept it to herself and followed Raibeart in the exploring of the place.
After a few moments they had already checked every room in the ground floor: the kitchen, almost untouched by the rushed moving away by the previous owners; the bathroom, which was basically a hole in the stony floor; and the dinner hall. It was wide and exquisite, and probably much dear in its golden age. The chandeliers gave the tone of the balls that may have happened there and a taste of the Republic's aristocrats. In the center, a huge wooden table, however, was the piece of furniture that held all the attention of Raibeart and Faye. Made of an ironwood so fine and sturdy it seemed made of bedrock.
Raibeart was puzzled. "What's this?"
"I don't know. Some sort of ironwood? It's quite popular with whoever has the coin in the Republic, but I don't know anything about the tree it comes from."
The two then went for the upper floor. Raibeart walked down the corridor to discover the bedroom of what seemed to be a couple. The bed was overlooked by a dossel and the curtains were still hanging.
Raibeart moved his hand closer to the dark blue drapes and opened it... to find a little woman corpse in her perpetual slumber.
At the same time, a scream echoed from up the corridor. Raibeart run and found Faye, shocked and in disarray facing one of the rooms. He put her aside and looked into the empty space.
A little man was hanging from the ceiling. His back faced the door, his head falling in an unnatural manner over his shoulders.
Beside him, an open wardrobe. A single wedding gown, of pearled colors and a distinct look.
Raibeart did not know what that meant, but saw the horror in Faye's eyes. She was probably awestruck by the discovery of the dead man, that was for sure. Maybe she never saw one.
Faye was out of herself. She was trembling from the impact, afraid of recalling any memories. She had never before witnessed a suicide, even if one that had already happened. She shut her eyes and left for the living room, sitting in a chair and waiting for the sleep to take her away.
And then she woke up, in the kitchen. Raibeart had prepared a fire in the oven and was already laid, sideways facing the warmth. Faye could hear the storm breaching the wooden boards of the house, as if the wind was tramping over and over the mansion out of congealed anger. The young little noble felt that the worst had passed, however, and tried not to think too hard about the hanged man on the floor above.
That night was very long and very white. The mansion shackled and rumbled horribly, but in the end the three companions saw the light of the morning after. The snow had invaded parts of the mansion and they had some difficulty walking over the powdered ice, but at last Lordani appeared to help them moving outside.
The day was clear and blue. Far away, Raibeart noticed that the white orc tribes were signalling messages through smoke and found out that there was a war happening between distinct clans. That ought to be good for them after all, so the less attention they would draw.
After a reinforced breakfast, the trio departed from that estate, never to return. The mystery of the mansion was never solved. The tale of the dead wife, the hanged man and the wedding dress is still untold to this day.
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