Rain begins as a thin veil over Castle High Wind, tapping the balcony stone and silvering the ocean below. King Hammon watches the dark water while the hall behind him keeps its warm, wary dinner pace.
Far out under the main moon, Ethrosise glows pale along his back as he circles a lone boat. His lowered head lingers close to the crew, as if the sea itself is carrying a long, private warning.
Getrin
He is still out there. The king has a leash on something no lord should ever have to leash.
Below the balcony, Getrin refuses the offered ale again. His guards tighten the canvas cover above him as the rain grows heavier, and he does not look away from the serpent for even a breath.
The Squire
My king, if strangers can come here to count your monster from the shore, they will come again with maps and questions.
The servants keep eating and pouring through the night, but the hall has changed. This is no longer only a feast, it is a test of whether Castle High Wind can keep its secret law when outsiders learn there is a sea guardian tied to its coast.
Getrin lifts his chin toward the dark water, measuring distance, weather, and the serpent’s path as if he means to make a report of it. The rain thickens, and the moonlight on Ethrosise flickers like a signal waiting to be read.
✓ Quest Accepted
Allow Getrin to study Ethrosise
“I relax and eat and drink and let getrin to himself, i command festive upbeat songs played”
SUCCESS (Superb Persuasion, rolled -1)
King Hammon settles back into the feast’s warmth, and the hall answers him. A servant pours, another passes the platters, and the stern edge of the doorway loosens as a songleader calls for brighter pipes.
The first lively tune rises under the rafters. Even the rain sounds softer against the stone as cups lift, shoulders drop, and the long table finds its old rhythm again.
Gromm
That is better. A hold that can laugh while it watches the sea is a hard hold to break.
The Squire
My kin will hear of this. They will say Castle High Wind keeps its teeth, and its hospitality.
Getrin
You understand the value of a careful hall, King Hammon. That is rarer than most lords admit.
Getrin finally accepts a cup, but his eyes stay on the balcony beyond it. Outside, Ethrosise continues his slow circuit, and the small boat drifts with the rain between serpent and shore.
Getrin
I am not here for gossip alone. I watch what the coast does to a guardian like that, and what a king allows it to do.
The nearest table creaks as the coin pile is nudged aside for more dishes, and the hall’s cheer spreads without reaching the dark water. Getrin’s question hangs there, plain and unfinished, while the serpent keeps watch beyond the surf.