Orien leaves the wayhouse after sunrise, riding the dun gelding along the raised southern road. The keeper’s lantern dwindles behind him as reeds glitter beneath the clear sky.
By the promised noon hour, Reedmere appears around a broad common green, its low houses gathered beside a stone-lined well and a muddy cart track.
A loaded cart blocks the green. A carter grips its reins while a stallholder stands before stacked baskets, and the reeve holds both apart as villagers watch.
Reedmere Reeve
Your wheel stood in her stall space, Harl. Her baskets stood beyond the marked line. Neither of you may claim the whole green.
Carter Harl
The road narrowed, Reeve. I moved where the ground allowed, and she chose to build her stall across the turning.
Stallholder
My place is marked every market day. He broke the line, crushed two baskets, and now calls the damage a road’s doing.
Reedmere Reeve
Enough. Rider, you arrive at a poor hour for quiet passage. Do you come seeking work, trade, or only passage onward?
“Ask what work this hamlet offers, if any.”
SUCCESS (Great Reasoning, rolled +2)
Orien Thanebroken
I am seeking work, Reeve. What does this hamlet offer a traveler willing to earn his keep?
The reeve studies Orien, then glances toward the cart and baskets as the watching villagers settle into quieter attention. The dispute remains waiting beneath the noon sun.
Reedmere Reeve
We need hands more often than we need grand promises. The south ditch wants clearing, the waystones need resetting, and the miller pays for sound help with sacks.
Reedmere Reeve
There is also work at the ferry road. Travelers need escorts across the fen when the water rises, though a rider must know firm ground from treacherous ground.
He points beyond the common green, where a rutted lane leads between reed beds toward a low line of alder trees. A painted board lists short-term tasks beneath the well.
Stallholder
If you can mend a wheel or carry a basket without breaking it, folk here will find use for you.
Reedmere Reeve
Those are the offers, rider. The ditch work begins tomorrow, the miller pays today, and the ferry road always tests a newcomer.
✓ Quest Accepted
Earn Reedmere's welcome
undefined / undefined
A deep tone rolls beneath the noon bells, though no hand touches the bronze gong beside the well. Water trembles in every bucket around the green.
Reedmere Reeve
Stand clear of the well. Everyone keep to the marked stones.
The stone-lined well exhales a ribbon of silver mist. It curls across the flagstones against the wind, carrying the cold scent of deep water and crushed mint.
Carter Harl
That is no spring trick. The old well has been quiet since my grandfather’s day.
A pale shape moves beneath the well’s surface, too broad to be a fish. The water rises without spilling, and faint blue letters appear along the inner stones.
Orien Thanebroken
The writing is older than the village marks.
Reedmere Reeve
No one draws water. No one touches those stones. Stallholder, clear the green, and Harl, get that cart away from the well.
“Is this the work of some fey or marsh-spirit?”
YES (Likely, rolled 44)
The blue letters brighten beneath the water, their curves flowing like reeds in a current. Something unseen stirs below, and the well’s mist gathers into a slender, antlered silhouette.
Reedmere Reeve
A fen-spirit. Keep your hands visible, and do not offer it iron, salt, or promises.
The shape remains beneath the surface, never breaking it. Pale eyes open in the dark water, reflecting the noon sky with an otherworldly green.
Carter Harl
My grandfather said the well belonged to the reed court before Reedmere had a name.
Stallholder
Then why does it wake now? We have marked that green for generations.
The spirit lifts one long hand against the inner stones. The ancient writing rearranges itself, and a single symbol appears beneath the village marks: a broken wheel.
Reedmere Reeve
No one moves until it shows what it wants. The well remembers older boundaries than ours.
“Watch the spirit carefully.”
SUCCESS (Good Perception, rolled -1)
Orien watches without reaching for weapon or rein. He studies the spirit’s antlered outline, its hand against the stones, and the blue script shifting beneath the water.
The spirit’s gaze fixes on him. In its reflection, the broken wheel becomes whole, then turns toward the cart blocking the marked boundary.
Orien sees the truth clearly: the spirit does not demand tribute or welcome. It wants the old turning place restored, and the cart moved from the reed court’s road.
Reedmere Reeve
You have seen its meaning, rider. The wheel marks the crossing, not the well. Harl, move your cart beyond the stones.
Carter Harl
Aye, Reeve. I will move it, though the axle will complain.
As Orien keeps his eyes on the spirit, cold mist beads across his face and sleeve. His vision blurs for a breath, and the old writing burns painfully bright.
Reedmere Reeve
Do not look away yet. The court has marked you, Thanebroken, and it knows you understand.
“Is Orien familiar with the realm of spirits?”
NO, BUT (Unlikely, rolled 40)
The blue script dims, leaving only the broken wheel beneath the water. Orien recognizes no spirit-law in its shifting marks, nor any remembered teaching that names this court.
Orien Thanebroken
I know the sign, not the spirit.
Reedmere Reeve
You are no spirit-reader, then. But you saw the boundary it showed us, and that may be enough.
Beyond the well, the antlered reflection turns toward the alder lane. A second blue mark appears on the nearest waystone, pointing away from the village green.
Carter Harl
There is an old crossing under those alders. My cart has not used it since the road sank, but the stones may still stand.
Reedmere Reeve
Move the cart, Harl. Rider, if you seek work, the marked lane offers a task no board can name. Follow it only if you choose.
The spirit’s silhouette thins into silver mist, while the new waystone mark remains clear. The old crossing offers a concrete path beyond the crowded green and its unfinished quarrel.
“I follow the lane to find out what the spirit wants with me.”
SUCCESS (Good Perception, rolled -1)
Orien follows the blue mark along the alder lane. Reed shadows close around him, and the village sounds fade until only hoofbeats and dripping leaves remain.
The waystone’s light leads to a sunken crossing where old stones form a broken wheel beneath the roots. Silver mist gathers between them.
Orien Thanebroken
The crossing was built for passage, not tribute.
The antlered spirit rises from the mist without disturbing the puddles. Blue script circles its feet, then redraws itself across the stones in a clear image of a severed cord.
Reedmere Reeve
It wants the crossing opened again, but not for carts. The old boundary has been cut from the living road.
A pale thread of light extends from the spirit to Orien’s torn cuff, revealing the same broken-wheel mark beneath the fabric. The spirit wants him to carry its sign south and restore the next waystone.
As the mark settles into the cloth, the cuff tears fully away and drops into the mud. The spirit fades, leaving the direction unmistakable: south, toward the drowned stones.
“Return to my horse and head south”
Orien leaves the drowned crossing behind and follows the alder lane back toward Reedmere. The blue mark on his torn cuff remains faintly visible beneath the morning light.
The village green comes into view beyond the reeds. Harl’s cart now stands clear of the well, while the reeve and stallholder continue their business without calling after him.
The dun gelding waits beside the outer rail, watered and calm. Orien gathers the reins, mounts, and turns the horse toward the southern road.
Reedmere settles behind him as the raised road carries horse and rider between wet grass and alder shade. The stone-lined well disappears from sight, its ancient boundary left undisturbed.
Orien Thanebroken
The southern road remains open.
By afternoon, the blue waystone mark points onward toward drowned stones farther south. The gelding keeps a steady pace, and no obstacle interrupts the journey.
“Head to the drowned stones”
SUCCESS (Good Agility, rolled +0)