The young, penetrating voice was an anchor into the present. Keeling over slightly, Daniel answered “that sword will do you no good against me son, and to answer your question I thought I saw some of the group head off to a tavern nearby.” He unintentionally stared into the mans eyes, young and innocent as they were. The knight blinked confusedly for a moment before belting a rushed thank you and setting off towards the tavern, clearly aiming to be apart from the strange man as fast as possible. It was obvious to Daniel how insane he must look, so with effort he managed to brush the better part of sleet off of his shoulders and removed the kings summons from a concealed jacket pocket.

Strangely, the paper seemed to have aged significantly although to the knights knowledge it had only been delivered a few months ago. Stumbling over himself before the man could leave, Daniel set a hand on his shoulder and shuddered out “hold on a moment, I am one of them. Have you directions to the squire?” The young knight simply pointed over Daniels shoulder and, after pondering the aged paper for a moment, handed it back and jogged out of the foreground.

Stumbling into the main hall with gusto, Daniel slammed the door shut behind him and sighed a breath of relief. Gazing around the room, he found only a couple people that could be his compatriots. With a resigned sigh he slumped against a nearby pillar and gradually faded out of this reality. His mind wandering between dimensions and realities, as his forlorn weathered gaze settled upon the opposite wall.

---

---

The call for a free round never failed to garner the attention the guardsman sought. His worn visage was upturned in a light smile as several people were quick to bound forward. The veritable charge was led by the mountain of a man that the veteran guard had spotted earlier. He had a feeling someone of his demeanor was here on business of this sort. The leather-clad stranger carried himself like a warrior- it was a walk the old soldier was well acquainted with. It was one he had once walked as well in his younger years, before his body and temperament were weathered by too many winters.

"Ahh, don't you worry- the man'll get what's coming to him soon enough." He scornfully replied, knowing full well that the steward's punishment would be a light slap on the wrist compared to the hell any man of lesser status would be put through for such a short coming. "Pleasure to meet you, Blackwall. I'm Sergeant Howle of the Royal Guard." Howle held out one hand toward Blackwall, offering a shake, while the other reached behind to take the first of the whiskey brought up by the barkeep. Howle passed it right on to the warrior in exchange for his summons.

The two younger guards accompanying the sergeant were quick to snatch up drinks of their own. The darker haired and fairer skinned of the two lifted the harsh liquid up to his lips, only to pause before he could drink at the sight of the next to approach them. He launched a sharp elbow into the side of the companion with him, wordlessly bringing the other man's gaze to follow his own. The next to come forward was easily ousted as a wizard, given her attire and the company she'd kept. Their was suspicion in the first man's eyes- though it was not mirrored by his fellow. On the contrary, his second's gaze was filled with a captivated fascination. Magic, and those that wielded it, was an incredibly rare thing to behold. Praetor City was one of a handful of hubs of activity that saw wizards pass through at all. Many cities would consider the presence of one magic user an omen, and a moment to be recorded in the history books. For most in Dall, however, magicians just meant one thing:

Trouble.

Neither of the two flankers spoke up as Tegan introduced herself, though for entirely different reasons. They took a step away and allowed Howle the floor, letting him take a step forward to offer yet another handshake to yet another adventurer. "His highness King Astius-" The sergeant emphasized- "Surely appreciates your answering his call." Howle silently figured the exorbitant pay offered to types like these ones was thanks enough, but it wasn't his place to comment; especially not when he was meant to be convincing these people to take the job for his lordship. One summons in hand, he looked to the other magician accompanying Tegan. "I'm not made of coin, but if your friend has his summons, I'll see what I can do." Howle's smile faltered just a little, wincing as he totaled up the costs in his head. The Steward was going to have to reimburse the sergeant for all of this, or there'd be hell to pay. For Howle, more than likely- but he'd be very upset about it.

"You all have my apologies, but I'm afraid you'll need to drink and walk. We're pressed for time as it is." Howle nodded. He silently tore the drinks away from his two guardsmen, sliding them back across the bar. A protest nearly started from both guards and the barkeeper, but a single glare was enough to choke down any words they might have for him. He didn't doubt the bastard across the counter owed the king anyway, and the two with him knew the captain would whip them both on sight if he caught them drinking on duty. With that, the group had to be off, returning to the keep in due haste. Any questions could be answered along the way, or deferred to the steward upon arrival.

---

"I'll have a cup brewed for you immediately, then." He insisted with a slight forward nod of his head. The gray haired captain turned heel, leading the way for the single adventurer back toward the castle keep. His smile, already characteristically thin, drooped into a frown when he heard the calls for a 'drink at the tavern' from the guard stationed at the front. His nose was further stuck up when the woman he was escorting mentioned that she was married. The captain made a mental note to take the man aside later and explain in no small detail the etiquette expected of the king's own.

He had always been a strict man of chivalry and code, and he expected his men to follow in his stead. Those that did not rarely remained in his guard for very long.

A slight turn of his head to look back at the oddly dressed treasure hunter, the royal guardsman answered the questioned offered him with a wiggle of his thick, gray mustache. "The nearest inn is the Lame Mule. It's a short walk from the keep up the main road." He explained, his voice echoing in the pit of his gut like a drum of war. It was a short, factual explanation- his own ill-feelings about the lowly establishment kept to himself.

"I'd personally recommend an establishment in the eastern district. The Flightless Pegasus, it's called. The best drinks you can get in Praetor. More expensive and out of the way, but the woman that owns it is wonderful." The captain added after a moment of hesitation.

Before them the great wooden doors of the keep were thrown open, the freezing cold air plowing into the warm exterior. It's halls of grand marble and sapphire curtains weaved from the finest linens and silks were a sight to behold indeed. No place on earth could match it's splendor- according to the men of Dall, at least, who were known for being totally objective and not at all self-absorbed.

Inside the castle hall, a handful of unfamiliar faces could be found. An odd, weasel-looking man stood near an equally shifty-eyed woman bearing heavy iron shackles. And then there was the robed man with a distant look on his face that they'd seen outside before. The captain judged them all quite harshly, though the only sign of his disapproval was the creasing of his wrinkled visage.

He cleared his throat, stepping forward to hopefully get their collective attention. "You have my sincerest apologies for the delay." The captain began. "And I would like to thank you for your patience. Steward Lethino will be overseeing your departure. If you'd all follow me, I'll lead you to him." The guardsman waved, beginning to move through the sparkling hall with the hope that they'd all fall in at his rear.

"The Flightless Pegasus," Torielle echoed softly. "Expensive and out of the way. Hmm. Perhaps Your Majesty will pay enough that I could afford it." It was supposed to be a joke, but her tone didn't support it. She turned her eyes to the ground as she realised how regretful a thing it was to say.

The heat of the building forced Torielle to turn her head further, bracing herself against the extreme difference across the threshold. As the doors were closed behind her, she shifted her scarf away from her face and head, revealing herself as she looked around with feigned interest. Her eyes swept across the interior, noting the polished stone and perfectly laundered linens that surrounded her.

More impressive than the outside, at least; but not nearly as impressive as the frozen water.

Her gaze continued sweeping as she followed the old guard, searching for something new and exciting. Finding nothing, she took a deep breath as she was led into the hall, a gaggle of strangers waiting for something to happen being their only greeting. Torielle shook her head as she looked each over in kind, careful to avoid eye-contact with anyone.

The guard apologised kindly for the delay; Torielle turned her attention back to him. "Forgive me, sir, but my tea?" She had better control over her tone this time, and smiled weakly, trying to exude a polite kindness in turn, but still pushing for that small comfort that was promised to her just moments before.

---

---

The procession was guided through the twisting halls of the keep by their astute guides. They were hurried along at a rather quick pace, never allowed to linger to take in the palace's many sights. The only time they ever stopped at all was when the captain moved by the kitchen and pilfered a hot cup of tea for the foreign adventurer- and anyone that wanted one for themselves. While they gathered, the captain and the guests were joined by the royal guard sergeant and the lone necromancer he escorted.

As they continued on their journey deeper into the palace, the procession was offered a glimpse of Dall's boundless coffers. Tapestries of ancient battles woven with colored silk and paintings of long dead monarchs decorated the marble walls. Incriminates of shining gold, splendorous and pure, were carved into the stone in intricate and beautiful designs. Luxury and lavishness defined the Dallish capital. No expense was spared, and the great wealth of it's merchant king was put on full display for all to see.

Passed room after room, hallway after hallway, the group finally came upon their destination. A doorway of heavy oak and iron. Much like the great gate of the keep, yet smaller and- apparent by it's worn handle- well used.

When it creaked open, the party was at once assaulted by a harsh breeze. The wind swept inside the keep like a river of ice, chilling all it encountered to the bone. They were led onto a frost covered portico just outside of the castle, where a great deal of activity could be seen.

Young boys and old men cloaked in heavy furs carried large trunks and bags upon their backs and shoulders, transporting them to and from a great storehouse adjacent to the keep. Several large horses lingered in the snow, packs being strapped down to the sides of their saddles. Each was fitted with a draping coat of padded linen; a means to keep them warm in Dall's unrelenting winter.

Standing on the portico just before the door was a short man wrapped tightly in a lavish-looking coat. His balding head was covered by a floppy cap, and his face protected under layers upon layers of thick white facial hair. The aging man turned when he turned the door opening, his thick spectacles nearly falling off his nose in the process. "Ah, there you are!" He nearly shouted. He started toward them, tucking the scroll of parchment under his arm as he gave a quick wave to the hired treasure hunters. "You have my sincerest apologies for all of this trouble. You have no idea how busy this time of year is for us. And the gods, so cruel! They brought on an early snow!" The odd fellow threw an arm out behind him, gesturing to the field of white that covered practically every inch of the outdoors, and to the flakes that seemed to never stop falling.

"I am Frederick Lethino, the king's royal steward. It's a pleasure to meet all of you." He smiled, nodding to them as he rapidly rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. "You should all know why the king has summoned you here- I was quite detailed in my summons, after all. But just in case, I'll give you a brief...refresher." Lethino cleared his throat, his hands coming together in front of his chest as he straightened his back. He'd changed his usual speech a little, hoping to add an extra bit of thematic flair to his delivery.

"By order of King Astius the Second, ruler of Dall, you are hereby granted the title of Royal Artificers. This temporary seal will allow you to pass through the guard station at Contritum, and enter into the sunken city of the ancients." Lethino explained, his voice grave and his delivery far too dramatic.

"As Royal Artificers, your duty is to secure still-operational artifacts. For every treasure you bring back with you, you will be rewarded with Dall silver. It is no exaggeration to say that this mission could make you quite rich. However, be warned: it is not without risk. We all know of the Broken. The monsters that stalk the cities of old- said to devour the very flesh of those still-living captives they take. The lucky ones die quickly. Broken are fierce, unpredictable, and above all: intelligent. I make this clear to you so that you know what you're going up against is not to be taken lightly. Though you are all proven warriors in your own right...It is not uncommon for whole teams of Artificers to never return."

Lethino pulled the parchment out from underneath his arm, unrolling it. "If you're having second thoughts, I won't blame you. But this is the last time you may back down. If you're still willing, each of you will be provided with a small sum for taking the job; the rest will be given when you return with the artifacts. Your deadline is one week. Seven days to get there, collect as much as you can, and then return back here to reap your reward. I'll be sending you with a small escort and a guide to ensure that you get to the city and back safely, but only the guide will be joining you in Contritum; the rest of the escort will wait at the outpost."

The Steward had one of his aides approach each of the Artificers caring a bag of coin. They were not insignificant in size, and just the beginning sum would be worth months of a working man's wages. "I will have each of you who take the sum sign this document with your name. This binds you to complete the kingdom's contract. If you do not return in seven days to fulfill it, you will be a fugitive of the law, and this money will be considered stolen. The penalty for stealing in Dall is enslavement until the debt is paid." Frederick handed the contract and a quill to whomever took their own bag of coin first.

"Those of you who sign may choose a horse from those standing behind me. They're the strongest bred in all of Dall, and are trained not to panic- even in the face of the Broken. They'll serve you better than any horse that isn't from the Plains. You'll all need to hurry. You have perhaps five hours of sunlight left, and the journey to Contritum will take four of those."