Adventure of Raegar Lycaon

The road descends into the Concord of United Free-Holds, where patched banners and painted guild marks flutter above a sprawling camp-town. No gate bars the way, only watchful faces and open fires.

Fortis leads Raegar’s absence like a weight beneath his worn leather armor, the dragon emblem on his chest catching the sunset as he enters the crowded commons.

A sealed scrap rests between Fortis’s broad fingers, marked with House Lycaon’s old wolf sigil. Its message names a meeting place beneath the cooper’s guildhall.

Beyond the guildhall, voices rise around communal tables while the wind carries smoke, stew, and the strumming of a battered lute. Fortis pauses beneath a crooked archway, studying three unmarked paths.

Raegar continues down the descending road as evening settles over the Concord. The camp-town grows nearer, its patched banners stirring above rooftops of timber, canvas, and salvaged stone.

Open fires brighten the roadside, and the smells of stew, smoke, and river mud drift together beneath the first cool breath of night.

Travelers make room without ceremony as Raegar passes. Painted guild marks cover posts and wagon boards, each sign pointing toward a different trade or gathering.

Ahead, a crooked archway frames the camp-town’s busiest crossing. Beyond it, the cooper’s guildhall rises among crowded stalls and leaning awnings.

The road remains clear beneath Raegar’s feet, carrying him steadily toward the heart of the settlement while dusk gathers over the open camp.

Raegar searches the crossing by movement, familiar silhouettes, and voices. At the cooper’s guildhall, a dragon-marked arrow is pinned beside the door, pointing toward the riverward commons.

The trail leads beneath the awnings, where Will Brigtwood stands over a trestle table, examining enchanted arrowheads while a masked lady watches from the firelight.

Aiko turns toward him, her mask catching the flames. Beyond her, Fortis rises from a crowded bench, broad shoulders eclipsing the lantern behind him.

The three companions occupy a secluded corner beneath the guildhall’s stair, and the empty seat beside them gives Raegar a clear place at the table. The arrow’s fletching bears a second mark: a hidden route beneath the cooper’s floor.

Raegar settles with the others beneath the stair, and the four of them fall silent. Firelight trembles across the arrow’s hidden mark while Fortis lowers his voice.

Fortis lays the sealed scrap on the table but keeps one heavy hand over it. The parchment bears a second impression beneath the wolf sigil, shaped like a broken crown.

A chair scrapes somewhere beyond the awning. Fortis snatches the scrap back, tearing its lower corner loose; the missing piece remains beneath his palm.

Raegar scans the awnings, firelit tables, and guildhall entrance, tracking pauses in conversation and hands that linger too near hidden weapons. The crowded commons offers too many moving shadows.

A passerby crosses his sightline, briefly blocking the cooper’s door. When the figure clears it, the dragon-marked arrow is gone, leaving only a splintered pin.

Will turns the splinter beneath the lantern. Fine blue dust clings to its grain, trailing away from the guildhall toward a narrow stair descending beside the riverward stalls.

Raegar follows the blue dust beneath the riverward awnings, keeping to broken lantern light and watching every reflection in puddled mud. Fortis, Will, and Aiko move behind him in silence.

The trace descends a cramped stair beside stacked barrels, then ends at a concealed door beneath the guildhall. Raegar finds its latch without disturbing the dust.

Raegar opens the door. A hinge gives a sharp cry, and conversation above the stalls falters as several heads turn toward the stairwell.

They enter a low chamber lined with listening bowls and wax-sealed messages. A hooded figure, an adult of indeterminate gender and species with a slender silhouette beneath a weather-dark cloak, its face hidden in shadow, sits beyond them, hands visible, waiting beneath a single blue flame.