Adventure of Sirveris 1

The tavern door bursts inward, scattering splinters across the floor. Captain Veyr enters, his narrow, weathered face above a steel breastplate and blue-trimmed uniform with four armored soldiers, a middle-aged man with a lean frame, iron-gray beard, and a rain-dark blue cloak.

Frightened patrons press away from the hearth. The blacksmith remains behind the bar, empty-handed now, while Sirveris stands nearest the hidden kitchen passage.

Veyr's attention fixes on Sirveris, then flicks toward the blacksmith and the curtained rear passage. One gauntleted hand tightens around his sword hilt.

The warrant catches the firelight, its crowned-wyrm seal plainly visible before Sirveris folds it away. His low voice reaches Veyr alone, leaving the tavern listening in tense silence.

Veyr leans close enough to inspect the wax, his gauntlet lowering from his sword. The soldiers remain alert, but none moves toward Sirveris.

Sirveris keeps the words low, meant for Veyr alone. The captain studies him beneath narrowed eyes, then glances toward the soldiers and the sealed warrant.

Veyr steps aside, clearing the route to the curtained kitchen passage. His soldiers follow his gesture and lower their weapons, though their attention remains fixed on Sirveris.

The cost settles quietly: Veyr's suspicion now follows Sirveris as surely as a drawn shadow. Still, the kitchen passage stands open, and the quarry investigation is his.

Sirveris leaves Village Tavern behind and arrives at the quarry.

The old quarry lies beneath western cliffs, its terraces silvered by moonlight and rain. Broken stone, thornbushes, and abandoned tools surround a dark cut descending into the earth.

A cold draft rises from the lowest excavation, carrying the scent of ash and damp iron. Beyond the rim, a narrow trail disappears between fallen slabs.

Near the trailhead, a toppled survey post bears the crown's mark, split cleanly through its center. Beneath it, boot prints overlap something broad and clawed.

The tracks lead into a low tunnel where faint red light pulses against the stone, too steady for a lantern and too dim for open flame.

From within comes a muted metallic chime, followed by a whisper of shifting gravel. The quarry's hidden depths are open before Sirveris, and the signs point inward.

Kneeling beside the prints, Sirveris reads the split impressions clearly: clawed toes, a narrow heel, and a dragging point where a tail has brushed the mud.

As he rises, a thorn catches his cloak and tears a small strip from the hem. The sharp snag scrapes his wrist, leaving a thin line of blood.

The red pulse inside the tunnel answers with another muted chime. Fresh tiefling tracks continue beneath the fallen slabs, while broader boot marks turn aside toward a concealed ledge.

Rain ticks against the quarry stones behind him. Ahead, the damp trail and its faint red glow descend together into the earth.

Sirveris follows the clawed tracks beneath the slabs, keeping low as the red pulse brightens. The tunnel opens into a chamber warmed by a concealed crimson crystal.

A young adult tiefling woman crouches beside the crystal, lean and travel-worn, with rust-red skin, swept-back black hair, curved dark horns, and a charcoal cloak. A thin chain loops from her wrist to a bronze case.

She turns fully, one hand hovering near a sheathed knife. Behind her, the crystal illuminates royal survey marks scratched across the chamber wall and fresh boot prints around them.