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A loud metallic clanking awakens Alysa less than an hour later. At first, it seems to emanate only from her own room but soon she can hear it echoing through the house. However, she cannot see what it might be as the bedroom is plunged into complete darkness and not even the faintest rumor of sunlight penetrates through the heavy curtains covering the windows.The din ceases nearly as quickly as it began and it is rapidly followed by silence made only more eerie for the lack of illumination by which to see her surroundings.She looks around, allowing her eyes time to adjust to the darkness. She thinks back to the stories she's heard of creatures that abhor the sunlight, feasting on human flesh and blood and can't help but laugh at herself for thinking such absurd things as she settles back, staring into the darkened room around her as silence falls once again.There is not another sound that Alysa can hear, even from outside the walls of the manor. All is calm, quiet and lightless. As she shrugs off the strange darkness, she finds herself somehow feeling slightly more secure in her circumstances and allows sleep to claim her once again.

She is allowed to rest undisturbed for most of the morning and, in fact, the remainder of the day unless she decides to rouse before then. It is still utterly dark in the bedchamber, however, though she is not unaccustomed to moving about without the benefit of light. In fact, she honed her talents around the docks of Damora, competing with the vermin for a safe, if not comfortable, place to sleep. Still, she is in unfamiliar territory and while she might remember the layout of this room and possibly the corridor beyond it, she would still be groping about blindly without the benefit of a torch or lantern.Alysa is in no hurry to surrender her comfortable position and focuses instead on replaying the previous nights events in her head, trying to come to the conclusion of how she got herself into this.

The woman was clearly after something more than Alysa's company, perhaps even her body and she will need to quickly decide if this is an arrangement she can abide. She has never been one to trade her favours for protection and yet she finds herself entertaining the idea. After all the woman wasn't exactly bad looking and there were far worse demands she could make.Thankfully she is left to her thoughts, uninterrupted. She is still uncertain as to why it would be so dark as even the tightest of shutters or heaviest curtains would be likely to permit some light to enter, provided it is still daytime as she has not anyway of verifying this either way.

Alysa is unsure of how much time has passed and even if she may have dozed off while chasing down her thoughts. She has already come to a decision regarding the woman's intentions towards her, at least for a few days if no longer. After all, Jax could use the rest as much as Alysa herself and though her own welfare is far from her primary concern she has a soft spot for the horse and would be devastated should harm come to him and so a few days in a warm stable will be good for him.

Without the sight of the sun or the sky, it is difficult to determine the passage of time. It may remind Alysa of those rather treacherous tunnels beneath Viktoron where the sewer lines connected with the disused underground railway as well as other passageways that had been constructed for purposes long forgotten. It is a wonder that the towering buildings above do not collapse into the hollows of the Underbelly but they are built on firm foundations atop the solid stone through which those hollows were excavated. There as well she could have found herself in unlit chambers with nothing but her wits and other senses to guide her. Nevertheless, in those remote reaches below the city, Alysa had resorted to crude torches or, once she had acquired it, a dim lantern to find her path. The light had drawn attention from some dwellers in the dark but nothing that her sword and pistol could not handle.

Fortunately, Alysa can be reasonably certain that there is not a gigantic many legged insect slithering her way across the bedroom but she likewise cannot verify precisely what, if any, danger she might be in.Being a woman who relies on her instincts, Alysa knows that something is amiss here, but she cannot put a name to it, it is merely a clinging feeling of danger and dread hanging over her. She cannot shake it and yet she tries, convincing herself that she is so used to being hunted and alone that the company of others is slowly driving her closer to the brink of paranoia.And yet Alysa remains undisturbed. She might actually be imprisoned here for all she knows. The door may be locked and the window may be barred Those are the only two exits of which she was aware when she first entered the room. Otherwise, there is still that heavy, oppressive silence.

She now has no choice but to follow her instincts. She leans over and pulls on her boots, her sword and her pistol always at her side. Her eyes by now have adjusted enough to the clinging darkness that she can make out shapes, enough to move from where she lies to the door, testing to see if it indeed is locked.In fact, the darkness is so profound that her eyes cannot adjust to it for there is not even the minimal amount of light necessary to even define shapes. It is almost like a solid, living thing. Still, Alysa can fumble around the bedroom, remembering her position relative to the furnishings and her natural agility prevents her from any awkward accidents. The door, she finds, is unlocked but opening it does not alleviate the problem. Just as in the room in which she stands, the large corridor is utterly black, though not so silent. There are vague echoes, possibly voices, that stir somewhere in the dark.

Alysa follows the sounds, pausing every few steps to allow the sounds to surround her. She is intent to find the source of the sounds for there is certainly some danger here and she intends to be gone from this strange place as quickly as she possibly can.Then, at what looks to be the far end of the hall, a light suddenly appears. It is clearly cast by a lantern but the identity of the person holding it is unknown as they seem to simply be a silhouette at the edge of the circle of illumination. Moreover, it appears to be heading towards her.Alysa's hand slips silently to the weapon at her side, she is hesitant to use it but if her instincts are correct there is something here that means her and possibly her new companion harm and she will not allow such things.

As it draws closer, it will resolve into the shape of a woman, clad entirely in white, from the simple gown she wears under her apron to the bonnet atop her head. However, it is when she has almost reached Alysanda and stopped that the bandit gains a full appreciation for the woman's condition. She has lank white hair that is mostly bound under her bonnet but a wisp or two falls stray here and there and her face is worn, her skin colored with a sickly grayish pall. Her sunken eyes widen in surprise in the hollows of her sockets.

'Oh, forgive me, ma'am!' she says in a low, almost rasping voice. It is almost impossible to determine her age but she is not elderly. She is also very thin as her clothes hang loosely around her shoulders and hips. 'I didn't know you had awoken. Had you pulled the bell cord beside your bed, I would have tended to you straightaway!'

Alysa may be reminded why the haggard features of the woman seem familiar; she bears a striking resemblance to the driver who had been trampled to death during her not entirely successful robbery the previous evening. Bowing her head, the woman states, 'I am Lucia, at your service.'

Alysa nods, relaxing her hand away from her weapon with a smile. "a pleasure to meet you Lucia, I am Alysa". she says, running a hand through her hair.

Lucia does not return Alysa's smile but continues to regard the blonde bandit with the same tired, haggard expression as before. Her eyes seem unfocused and lost but she simply nods once.'I am honored to serve the favored guests of my Lord and Lady,' she states numbly. It is still difficult to tell by the low light of the guttering lantern in her hand yet Alysa would swear this woman not many years older than herself, despite the lines etched around her eyes and mouth. 'What need have you, my lady, with which I might assist you?'

She is very well spoken, even for the servant of a country nobleman, though it is the slow, mechanical way in which she utters her syllables that may concern Alysa the most. Whenever Lucia pauses, the ominous silence in that stifling gloom around them almost seems alive and listening.

Alysa looks at her curiously, giving the strange darkness around them a suspicious glance before turning her gaze back on the strange woman in front of her. "I was hoping that once I conclude my business with your mistress tonight that my horse will be fed and saddled to leave". Her voice is low and calm even as the silence around them unnerves her. "He is not used to stables and I am sure he will want to run free as soon as he can"

Nodding once more, Lucia slowly to either side of the corridor, turning her head side to side before replying with a kind of resignation.'The manor is shuttered until nightfall,' she says, 'but you can enter the stables by the entrance in the kitchen if you like, though we're allowed to go in there.' Her affect is like that of a child hopelessly lost in the dark. 'We are not allowed in the stables or the tower. Not until after nightfall.'She abruptly changes the subject, though not, it seems, as an attempt to avoid the topic. Rather, it is like she is a messenger who has traveled a very long way and now shall not be dissuaded from delivering her intended missive.

'The lady of the house bid that you, as her guest, shall be in need of repast. If you desire to dine, you may accompany me to the dining room and I shall bid the cook to prepare you something from the kitchen. Or you may wander at your leisure.'

"Of course Lucia, I suppose there is no hurry after all he has run all night to bring your mistress home so he shall surely be sleeping himself" she smiles warily at the woman in front of her. "Why don't we head downstairs then and I shall wait for your mistress".

Lucia slowly turns her back upon Alysa and nods. 'Follow me, my lady,' she murmurs as she begins to walk slowly away, back along the vaulted corridor of the grand estate. By the glow of her lantern, she appears almost ghostly in her white maid's uniform and apron.A little curious about the woman's appearance Alysa follows her down the hallways. There seemed to be so many questions to ask the woman's mistress about this place and the people, but her instincts were screaming at her to run as soon as she could. They pass by the same sets of varnished and polished doors that lie on either side of the hallway and the painted portraits, whose aspects are even more unsettling by the lantern light. It is almost as if their eyes follow Alysa as she walks along the corridor, her footsteps once more swallowed by the thick carpet beneath her feet. She pauses at the landing above the twin staircases that join as one as they descend downwards towards the entryway. Alysa shall realize Lucia has stopped to gaze with those large, fully dilated eyes that have likely become accustomed to these dim environs. 'Where did your ladyship desire to wait for the mistress? It shall be some hours until she awakens. The clock has barely tolled the twelfth hour.'

Alysa smiles, trying to avoid the woman's strange eyes. There is something very off about this place, her instincts are going wild and she swears that every muscle in her body is tensed and prepared to strike although she herself is rather calm. "Does your mistress perhaps have a library? That way I shall be out of your way and she can easily find me".

'There are books in the study,' Lucia answers in her hollow voice, 'but the study is locked. We are only permitted to enter to clean it when the Lord or Lady of the house are present.' Then, very faintly, the distant whistle of one of the steam locomotives can be heard. It sounds muffled yet it echoes with a kind of tintinnabulation, as if resonating within a metallic shell. For a moment, Lucia gazes longingly at the long, heavy curtains that cover what appears to be tall, arched windows on the wall behind them. However, the thick draperies remain in place and, as with the bedroom in which Alysa passed the morning, not a sliver of sunlight is permitted inside.Clearly there are more secrets to this place than first meet the eye and Alysa's curiosity is growing by the minute but she will not let her guard down. "Then perhaps I shall take you up on your offer of food and then explore a little on my own until your mistress awakes"

Lucia carefully begins to descend down the stairs, taking both care with her footing but also moving with the same almost dreamlike slowness as before.She pauses on the landing by the grandfather clock that stands between the two vacant suits of armor displayed for the benefit of the grand entrance. The chandelier is lit but only half of the candles set within it are burning, casting long, dancing shadows across the entryway and giving the disquieting impression that the suits of armor are twitching or shifting where they stand, even if, upon closer inspection, it is merely an optical illusion.

A much older woman stands at the foot of the stairs. She has the appearance of someone who had once been quite plump but has lost a great deal of weight in a short amount of time. Like Lucia, her features are drawn and drained of almost all vitality. She speaks in a hushed whisper, as if fearing to awaken those who might be sleeping elsewhere in the house.

'Lucia!' she snaps in a dry rasp. 'Where did you go wandering? There is work to be done.'

Then her dark, vacant eyes gaze up at Alysa and she immediately bows her head and curtsies, spreading the hem of her uniform with her hands.

'Forgive me, my lady. I was unaware that you had awakened. The lady of the house bid us to allow you to rest for as long as it pleased you. I am Lemia, matron of Redclyffe Estate.'

As with Lucia, her voice is strangely strained and subdued. It almost would give the impression that these servants are abused by their mistress yet they do not flinch or appear frightened so much as simply bereft of any of the subtler qualities of life. The light in their eyes has died and now they move as if trapped in an unending nightmare.

Alysa shudders, quickly noticing a pattern in the woman's servants and wondering just what type of freakshow she's found herself in, although the more rational side of her mind, the one not scanning every shadow for a threat, assures her that their strange appearance is merely a side effect of the lack of natural sunlight around them and not some sinister spell to raise the dead. However assuring her instincts of that is not working so well and she finds herself cursing the tales she'd heard long ago over campfires for causing such a silly reaction in her usually iron nerves. "That's quite all right I assure you, i was simply telling Lucia that once your mistress awakens and my business here is concluded I shall need my horse saddled and ready to ride, but we determined there is no need for haste as it is yet early and the poor beast has probably just gotten to sleep himself after riding all night as he has".

'I apologize for the darkness,' Lemia says as if she had not heard a word that Alysa has spoken. 'The lord of the house fears thieves and had the shutters installed. Pirates and bandits and brigands, my lady; that is what he fears.'She nods. 'You shall need to speak with Dakrom, my lady. He is the handmaiden of the mistress but also the sole groom and stablehand. The horses-' And here, her voice becomes an audibly higher octave. 'Are in his charge. You are free, however, to explore the estate, my lady, though the tower is off limits to all but myself, Dakrom and the lord and lady of the house.'

Alysa bites back a smile at Lemia's admission, settling for a mere nod of her head. "Many do and for good reason as well, many a traveller has been set upon on these roads of late and I would imagine that not even the walls of a city can keep out the truly determined among them". This is in fact true, Alysa can remember many times in her short career that she was forced to investigate such crimes.Slowly nodding in affirmation, Lemia, whose gesture is mirrored by Lucia, manages a faint smile.

'Of what service may I be, honored guest of Redclyffe?' Lemia inquires. Her stare remains fixed upon Alysa, the woman now holding her full attention. Still standing on the lower landing, Lucia simply remains still, her hands lowered to her side, one of them still gripping the handle ring of the lantern.

"Please, call me Alysa" the young woman is unused to such treatment for it is rare that Stalkers are treated any better than the criminals they seek. And having made her home in the woods these past months she is unlikely to get used it any time soon. "And Lucia here was taking me to get some food and wait for your mistress to awaken so that I might conclude our business and be on my way without much trouble"

'Lucia may return to her duties,' Lemia explains somewhat archly, only now turning her attention to the younger woman. 'I shall escort you to the dining room, if you please follow me.' She stands there waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Lucia excuses herself quietly and crosses over to the opposite staircase on the other side of the landing and, lifting up her lantern, continues to walk down the other wing of the estate on the far side from where Alysa had been quartered.

Lemia stiffly extends a hand to her left, towards an arched entryway that leads to another darkened room just off the main entryway. Alysa allows Lemia to lead her to the dining room, trying to ignore the questions running through her mind for it was doubtful the woman escorting her would have the answers she sought.

"Have you been with your mistress long Lemia?" she asks, curious as to whether the woman would speak to her or not.

'It has been many years now,' Lemia replies in a distant voice. 'There are times when I can scarcely recall. You see, we are not permitted to leave but by the permission of our lord and lady so there are many days when we do not see the sun. In time, you become used to it.'

She leads Alysa through the archway and into a somewhat smaller room with a lower ceiling. In here, there are arranged a pair of wooden framed sofas and a long table as well as a couple of comfortable chairs. A glass cabinet in one corner holds what appears to be a collection of various small brass, bronze or possibly gold curios while another displays a number of ornate weapons that are clearly designed for more decorative than practical purposes. All of this is cast in heavy shadows as the only source of light, aside from the feeble illumination of the entryway, is the lantern in Lemia's hand. Here, the stone tiled floors are covered with an occasional rug but are otherwise buffed to a high shine. It is very clean in this place but also cold, as if the inhabitants rarely enjoy the comforts it offers.

Another large but covered window takes up most of the left wall while, to the right, there is yet another archway.This chamber, larger than the parlor through which Alysa passes, is evidently a dining room as there is a massive table that dominates the center of the room, with no less than forty chairs set around it. Each place has been prepared with lace embroidered mats and a number of candles flicker along the middle of the table. Above, there is another crystalline chandelier but it remains dark at the moment. Aside from the entrance they had just used, there is another archway to the right, though here the double doors are closed and a pair of doors on the wall just ahead that likely access the kitchen. Walking to the far end of the table, Lemia turns and pulls out the chair that faces the parlor, with its back to the kitchens.'Please, my lady,' Lemia says patiently. 'Be seated and I shall fetch you some refreshment.'

Alysa slid into the pulled out chair and looked around, her blue eyes wide and curious, certainly her own home as a child had been large, but it had been simply appointed, nothing as luxurious as this. The blonde rogue was far more accustomed to the woods and taverns of the land than to manor houses, but she had to admit that even if this place was strange and slightly intimidating, it would be a comfortable enough place if you could ignore the other two facts. But for some reason her senses were still on high alert, reacting to some as yet unseen danger but she was unlikely to put the thoughts aside as simply being in a strange place. She had learned over the years that her instincts were often right and to ignore them meant to place herself in a dangerous situation. But she didn't speak a word of this to Lemia, keeping her suspicions firmly to herself until given reason to speak them aloud.

Despite the lavishly appointed room, there is still that sense of foreboding. Perhaps it is the lack of sunlight or it could be the way the portraits continue to watch Alysa as she takes her seat. There may be an unsettling feeling of imprisonment that troubles her natural instincts, that moment when a wild animal realizes it has wandered into a trap.Alysa had been incarcerated before, though never for very long. She had been a child, after all, and the four levels of penance only apply to those who have reached an age of maturity. The first, she had experienced; it is reeducation in the belief that such an opportunity shall convince the transgressor that there are better ways in which they may serve, rather than take, from society.

After that, there are reparations, where the criminal essentially becomes a bonded slave of the community, forced to do mandatory labor. Still, at least they are allowed to keep their minds as, with the third level of penance, the offender is stripped of free will by the magic of the Lawgivers. Thereafter, they are set about a number of tasks that, should they perform obediently and properly, they shall be restored.However, for the most heinous of transgressions, or for those who have failed to be satisfactorily rehabilitated, there is what is known as removal. It can mean exile to the Frightlands or to put upon a ship bound for elsewhere across the seas. Only rarely does it warrant death, even if banishment can often lead to a similar result.

For killing Jothan, Alysa would likely suffer the third level of penance, where her personality and will would be subjugated by the Lawgivers and she would exist for months, possibly years, in a dreamlike trance while she is forced to toil for hours. The Rehabed, as they are called, are said to not react to pain, even if they do still feel it and are bereft of emotions or ambition. It is as though they become not unlike the clockwork automatons that some wealthy nobles keep as servants or soldiers.

Lemia returns promptly with a bowl of what looks like a meat rich soup. Grayish bits of flesh float among what look to be chopped root vegetables in a savory smelling broth.'Forgive me, my lady,' she mutters softly. 'If you would perform something more, then I shall do my best to acquiesce to your request. I merely fetched something from the cauldron. It is very fresh.' She involuntarily licks her lips as she inhales some of the fragrant steam.

"I'm sure this will be wonderful Lemia, it smells almost divine" Alysa said with a smile. The younger woman wonders if Lemia herself has eaten but figures that it would offend the woman if she asked her, Lemia seems to be a woman of class and rules and Alysa knows that there are many rules to be followed in their society. She tries to push the thought of Jotan's murder from her mind and with it the thought of imprisonment despite the growing fear that she has in fact fallen for the oldest trap in the book. She instead focuses on taking a bite of the food Lemia has placed in front of her. Letting the rich smell flood her mind instead of the paranoia that had previously been there.It tastes vaguely like a somewhat bland pork stew. Very little seasoning has been used and the meat is slightly undercooked, making it quite chewy. There are even occasional slivers of bone but Lemia stands there, watching Alysa, almost transfixed by the sight of the woman eating her meal. Or perhaps she is simply waiting watchfully as good servants do.

Behind her, a rather elderly but spry fellow emerges from the kitchen. He has lank yellowish hair that hangs in a thin fringe around his mostly bald and misshapen head. He smiles tightly as he nods to Lemia, whose is tucking her own frizzy, graying mane back under her bonnet, not entirely successfully.'And how is our guest getting along?' the man says in a low, sardonic monotone, addressing not Alysa but rather Lemia.

'She sits right there before you,' Lemia chides with a soft growl in her throat, 'and you talk to me as if she were empty air! Ask her yourself, you old fool!'

The old man turns and bows deeply towards Alysa. 'I apologize most humbly, my lady. I am Alaric, the butler here, and if you have need of anything, you may ask me.'He is dressed as formally as Lemia and Lucia, though whereas they are clad entirely in white, from their simple gowns to the aprons they wear over them and the bonnets on their heads, Alaric is in a black, high collared waistcoat and trousers that makes his waxy, pale skin look even more unpleasant in the candlelight.

Alysa smiles and nods to him between bites of food. "Of course Alaric, thank you but as I've told Lucia and Lemia I hope to conclude my business with your mistress as soon as she awakes and then I shall be on my way. I would hate to be any trouble to you or your mistress". The blonde takes another bite of the food, eating around the tiny silvers tactfully, something she'd learned to do while travelling with Jotan, unlike her partner Alysa had been the calm and polite one, always managing to choke down even the most repulsive meals while he had often flown into a rage and stormed off. Strangely Alysa couldn't help but think that she never really missed him after his unfortunate death. The thought almost made her giggle but she knew that she should feel at least some remorse for her crime, the Lawgivers had always drilled that into her as a child and apparently some of it had stuck.

'Oh?' Alaric asks, sounding surprised. 'I'm certain she would prefer if you stayed if only for a short time. It's so rare for us to receive visitors and your company shall be a welcome change for the lady of the house.'

'If the lord of the house approves,' Lemia amends quietly, prompting Alaric to lean in very close to the matron and whispers something in a harsh rasp into her ear. Lemia's eyes widen, first staring appraisingly at Alysa before a thin smirk crosses her lips and she nods at Alaric.'Back to your duties then, you old worm! On your head be it should the lady awaken and find you've not done your work!' Lemia chides Alaric mockingly as the old man adroitly strides into the adjoining parlor and disappears around the left hand corner. 'How do you like it?' Lemia asks. 'It's what we eat. I am preparing something much more sumptuous for the meal this evening, just you wait!' She grins, revealing her yellowed teeth and blackened gums before hurrying back into the kitchen.

Alysa smiles once again, it seems that word of the past nights events had spread to at least one of the mysterious lady's servants. But she cannot help but wonder what Lemia thinks of her if it is true that she knows. "It's delicious Lemia, it's been some time since I've had such a lovely meal and I'm sure your skills will never disappoint" she laughs as Lemia scurries into the kitchen, finishing the last few bites of the rich stew as she considers her options in this situation. If it is true that the woman would wish her to stay she must either acquiesce to the request or risk the woman's anger and given the information she now had on Alysa that could be the far more dangerous situation than staying in this strange place a few days despite what her instincts are telling her.

On the other hand, if there is in fact some danger here, the very point might be moot and she may have to make a quick escape before the danger finds her. Promptly, Lemia returns to place a crystal goblet on the table before Alysa and pour her a glass of what looks to be some kind of white wine. Setting the bottle down next to the glass, she collects the mostly empty bowl and discarded spoon.

'If you are yet in need of repast, I can fetch you another bowl, my lady, or, if you've a request, I can tell precisely what we have in our larder that might suit your needs. This wine is from the vineyards near Ganelon and a very fine vintage.'The matron is not speaking entirely out of her depth as Alysa is from the southern regions of Angalon where they prize their vineyards as the finest in all of Airethe and it is common knowledge that the best wines originate in the that region.

"Why thank you Lemia, I am sure it will be just as delicious as the food" Alysa replies as she takes a sip. "I am quite content to sit here with this lovely wine and wait for your mistress to awaken, I would hate to be trouble and I am sure you have much to do before she awakes and I have kept you long enough from your duties". She runs a hand through her long blonde hair, the other swirling the wine in the crystal goblet silently. She has much to consider and if her instincts prove true she will have little time to prepare herself and so she will content herself to waiting.

Nodding politely, Lemia excuses herself to return to the kitchens. The silence returns almost vengefully, swallowing up even the faint noises of food preparation. It is entirely too quiet in this house, this tomb. Small wonder the staff looks like death warmed over.By the time Alysa finishes her first glass, the matron is there to check on her. She seems as though she has little else to be doing at the moment.'At your service, my lady,' she says with a bow of her head, her bushy hair threatening to burst out from under her bonnet.

Alysa looks over as Lemia speaks again, having been alone with her thoughts for some time. She figures the woman has finished her work and is looking for something to do. "Lemia, if you're not too busy, I have a few questions I would like to ask you" she says, gesturing to an empty chair near her "although if you still have work to do, I am certain they could wait a while longer".

Clasping her gnarled hands together, her jagged nails in desperate need of grooming, the old maid smiles tightly.'My lady, my only duties at the moment are to serve you. I am not alone in my tasks. I oversee all fifteen of the remaining staff here and they all work very efficiently under my watchful eye, if I do say so myself!'Still, as lively as her words sound, her voice and her face do not reflect. Her cadence and pitch may have changed but she still looks as though she has not seen the sunlight in years and her eyes are still as dull and hollow as ever.

"Well then i shall not doubt your abilities!" the blonde laughs, the sound echoing in the empty room around them. "I was simply curious about the history of Redclyffe, I have been to Gornmont before but have rarely heard stories of it" she explains, pouring herself another glass of wine from the bottle Lemia had brought her earlier.

"I'm simply a curious creature and if I am going to be staying here I suppose I should know more about the place and the people" she says by way of a reasoning for her questions.

Even in her diminished state, this older woman clearly hungers for gossip. She nods obediently and leans in still closer, her secretive smirk still stretched across her face. Her cheeks are hollow but her jowls sag around her jawline and she has a prominent wart on her chin.'What would you like to know about Redclyffe? I have worked here since before the lady of the house came to live with us. I shall willingly share what I know with you, if you have questions.'

Alysa can't help but smile at that and takes a sip of her wine before she speaks. "How old is the house? I know the clockwork devices must be relatively new, but i find the design of the house fascinating as it's like nothing I have ever seen before"

'Oh, Redclyffe is one of the oldest houses in Gornmont, though it hasn't always been the home of my master's family. A number of families have come and gone. For as long as I have worked here, it has been the estate of my lord and his kin but I have heard that the foundations where laid not long after the Great War.'

The war to which Lemia refers is almost certainly the war with the Horgoroth.They had come from the southeastern corner of Airethe, where they had supposedly dwelled centuries before. Once driven from the shores of the realm, they returned with a vengeance in considerable numbers and, unlike their previous, almost legendary incursions, the Horogoth employed some dark and strange instruments in their war. Some of the most horrid included the Fatal Guard, composed of human remains stitched back together and animated by clockwork installed inside their flesh. Had they been merely gruesome automatons, that may have been enough but some tales recount the creatures moaning or even speaking, indicating some echo of intelligence remained within.

It had been the Horogoth who, more than a hundred years before, had introduced the concept of steam engines which they employed in some of ther war machines, including the massive trains for which they had lain down miles of track and the flying ships that had inspired the present popularity of the aerostats. Yet for these gifts, Angalon had paid a terrible price. Unlike Mystykara, whose mystical inhabitants had never been fully conquered, Angalon had suffered heavily under the yoke of Horogoth rule. Summary executions, rampant violence and other acts best left undescribed had been commonplace and, it is said, the streets of Viktoron had been stained red with the blood of so many lost lives. Even now, there are old stone sluice drains that have a telltale discoloration.The rebellion had begun in Mystykara, so it is alleged, and soon there were uprisings all over Angalon as well. Though organized, the venal and cruel nature of the Horogoth had made them poor rulers and they soon fell into disarray under the relentless and growing number of disturbances until finally the balance shifted. Into the Frightlands, the combined armies of Angalon and Mystykara poured, using the very rail systems that the Horogoth had devised to invade, and they were pushed back into the sea. However, unlike the millennia old war in the distant past, this time they would not be permitted to escape.

The Royal Navy had established a blockade along the Blood Lagoon of the Frightlands and not a single member of the Horde would be allowed to survive. Just as the Mystakarans had the advantage of unorthodox strategies, the armies of Angalon are stronger through unity and it had been the end of the Horogoth.

Still, from what Alysa has heard, the legacy of the Horogoth Horde endures. The Frightlands, a mountainous, rocky region, remains almost completely barren, now only home to some of the less hospitable and sociable creatures of Airethe. It is a great unmended wound upon the continent, a reminder of the terrors that history can sometimes forget. Alysa listens as Lemia tells her about the house. She knows much about the war and the aftermath that it caused in Angalon. "So how long have your mistress and master's family owned Redclyffe?" she asks, hoping to coax some more information from the older woman.

Her bony hands clench together tighter. 'Master Armonde arrived here perhaps five years ago?' Lemia says, staring numbly at Alysa. 'He brought his bride with him. He had purchased a stake in a mine here and he wished to have a place where he could stay while visiting. He and my mistress never reside here long, though they do occasionally have guests, like yourself. It is most unfortunate what happened to my master. Who knew there were so many wolves in the woods here? I had not seen any of those beasts in many seasons.'

Alysa nods "the wolves have been moving through the woods in packs lately. Perhaps in search of food, we may never know". It seems the mistress of the house kept her secrets after all and for that Alysa is grateful. "It is a wonderful house, how many rooms are there?"

'There are nearly thirty if you do not count the tower,' Lemia replies somberly, 'and as none but the lord and lady of the house are permitted within, we servants do not bother with those rooms. We only count those we must clean and refresh every day.'

Her grin is hideous, her full lips peeling back over those jagged teeth once more. 'Most of them remain empty. The master of the house has taken less and less to entertaining company and the ballroom has not been used in many months, not since kin of our mistress paid a visit.'

"Whatever will she do with such a large estate now that her husband is dead?" Alysa wonders aloud, not expecting an answer from the woman as she does. "Although I am certain she must have many friends who will want to be with her of course. Does she at least have family close by who will help her or will she sell Redclyffe?"

Blinking with consternation, Lemia shakes her head. 'Oh, I never pretend to know what the mistress is thinking but the mine is thriving and the mistress has stated that she enjoys the atmosphere here in Redclyffe. In addition to the shutters to keep out unwanted guests, the master had an aerostat deck built on the rooftop. The family of my mistress are in possession of an airship, my lady, though they rarely visit.'Her nostrils flare as she exhales sharply and sniffs the air. Slowly, her head turns towards the kitchens.

'Begging your pardon, my lady, but the brute has taken to trying to sneak into the kitchen and help himself to the larder. His appetite is boundless, it seems.'

Alysa nods, thinking over the possibilities that this revelation proposes, sipping her wine. "Of course Lemia, my other questions can wait until you've dealt with him". She leans back on her chair and looks around as she swirls the wine in her glass. There was still the chance her instincts were wrong and the only thing to fear here was the strange darkness and that was easily explained away

She shakes her head.'No, my lady,' Lemia replies insistently. 'I simply thought I heard him but he's as quiet as a herd of wild horses in a room full of bells.' She manages a grim smile.

'I expect the darkness troubles you,' she adds, reading Alysa's expression. 'You get used to it. I know that it seems extreme but our master has his reasons. He is, excuse me, my lady, was a very private individual as is my mistress as well.'

Alysa nods "it is strange to find it so dark during the day, but I'm sure to you it is familiar and almost welcoming in its own way". She lifts the glass to her lips once more and takes a sip. "Everyone has their habits I suppose".

Licking her lips hesitantly, her eyes darting back towards the kitchen doors, Lemia answers, 'I would not say welcoming for all. Nearly half of the staff departed, one way or another, not long after the master had them installed, not long before he first arrived. The mistress encouraged those she could to stay, myself and my daughter included as well as Alaric and his son. There is not a more generous mistress to be found in Gornmont or all of the North for that matter.'She says this with a small degree of either resolute pride or slavish devotion. Either way, the effect is the same. Lemia seems to be a woman for whom servitude is her life's ambition.

"Of course, but surely you must be used to it by now and I am certain that your mistress has compensated you all most generously for the strange conditions, she seems like a lovely woman" Alysa smiles again, thinking of the woman with whom she had spent much of the previous night.

'Oh, yes, she is!' Lemia responds with more exhuberance in her voice, nodding in affirmation. 'She is the most wonderful mistress I could hope to serve and if you are her honored guest, then surely you must know how special it is to have found favor in her eyes! She is very selective with her company as only the most beautiful and capable receive her attention!'Her blank eyes now take on a fervent glow of pure admiration and it seems Alysa is not the only person to be charmed by the lady of the house.

Alysa gives the woman a bright smile, "well then I am sure I find myself in wonderful company for I doubt that such a lovely woman as yourself could escape her notice and I will be sure to tell her that you took wonderful care of me while she slept".

Grimacing with a snort, Lemia chuckles darkly. 'A lovely woman as myself?' the old maid says, her sagging jowls quivering. 'No, my lady, you do me a kindness but my beauty is nothing compared to yours and certainly nothing like that of my mistress. I serve her dutifully and ably and that is all the attention from her. It would be inappropriate to mention me to her at all, my lady. The place of a good servant is to do as commanded and not be noticed.'

She bows curtly. 'Is there anything else you wish to know, my lady? I do not have any pressing duties awaiting my attention but I can't reveal all the secrets of the house of my master and mistress. I have told you this much only so that you know you need not look about with such mistrust in your eyes. You shall be well cared for for as long as you remain here, my lady.'

Alysa laughs at the woman's rebuke "in my line of work my dear it's a simple effect of instinct and surely no reflection on my thoughts of you or your mistress I assure you". She says no more on the matter, but sips her wine thoughtfully, "but I have learned much from you today and I am grateful for your answers and your company".

'Then you no longer require my presence?' Lemia asks, her features resuming their previously vacant expression, the glimmer of life in her eyes dying, disappearing into the bottomless pits of her pupils. 'Is there anything else you may need, my lady?'

"I rather enjoy your company so feel free to stay, but I do not require anything from you my dear" Alysa says as she lifts the glass to her lips again, her thoughts wandering over all that she has learned today.

'Then I shall return to my duties, my lady,' Lemia replies with a respectful bow of her head. She unclasps her hands stiffly, flexing the thick digits as she turns towards the kitchen doors, which swing freely on their floating hinges as she disappears behind one.

Of course Lemia" she says, letting her eyes wander over the room around her for a few moments as she sips the delicious wine. Perhaps the woman was right and she had nothing to fear here, but she could not shake the oppressive feeling of the darkness around her.

The house is once more silent, almost as if in anticipation. Shadows dance on the walls around Alysa, cast by the clusters of candles on the table which serve as the sole light source in this large dining room. Above her, the darkness that gathers in the hollows of the high ceiling could be a starless sky to her eyes.

In all her travels, and especially in her career as a thief, never has she encountered such extreme countermeasures against burglary. Whatever lies within these walls must be particularly valuable or the owner is simply excessively paranoid.She ponders this thought for a moment but the woman keeps her secrets well and perhaps her husband was very much the same person with only a touch of the dramatic or overreaction. The wine was delicious and Alysa enjoyed every sip of the crisp drink as her eyes adjusted to the candlelight and even she had to admit the darkness, although strange was a nice respite from the harsh sunlight she was used to, even if for only a short time.

Lemia has left the bottle of wine behind, should Alysa desire another glass or two. It is very mild and hardly to be compared with the strong rum she consumed as an orphan raising herself in Damora. Only in the south is the climate suitable to maintain the cane fields that can be transformed into molasses, sugar and, from that, rum.

She has never had the opportunity to explore a tomb but Alysa may well imagine this is what it might be like. Could this oppressive darkness be the reason that the lady of the house encouraged Alysa to kill her husband? More than that, Alysa hadn't hesitated or weighed the consequences of the murder. It is almost as if she had been compelled by something in those cool blue eyes. The whispers in her ear on the ride towards Gornmont had only compounded this feeling. She pushed the thought from her mind along with those of her past. It was impossible and if nothing else she was jumping at shadows. She finished her second glass of wine and looked around, perhaps she should better acquaint herself with her surroundings and explore a little, after all she had much time to kill and if these were the thoughts that were going to occupy her mind then it was probably best she find some way to distract herself before they drove her mad.

The parlor, if that it is the intended use of the room, is decorated with a pair of cushioned sofas with ornate wooden frames as well as a pair of stout wooden chairs that resemble those sitting around the dining room table. There is an oblong, squat legged table resting parallel to one of the sofas. Along the wall to the right, on either side of another curtained window, are a pair of glass cabinets. One displays a wide variety of objects, from a silver tea set to small golden figurines; the small collectibles that only the wealthy can afford to leave lying around in empty parlors. The other cabinet has weapons of various sizes set in a semi circle display along the back. A cursory glance, even in poor light, shows that the blades, ranging from daggers to broadswords, are in excellent condition.

From the grand entryway, there are any number of possibilities. To the right is the corridor that leads to the front doors which Alysa might suspect are securely locked, not that that would necessarily prove an impediment to her. Across from the parlor is another room that appears remarkably similar but with chairs along the wall and beside a great hearth that is presently unlit or so it would seem as the gloom prevents her from presently determining any additional details.

To her left are the staircases that lead up to the second floor and the pair of parallel hallways that lead, at least in one case, to the bedroom where she had spent that morning.

Suddenly, the large brass grandfather clock begins to toll the thirteenth hour. It stands between the two suits of armor that are mounted on stands to hold them upright at attention. Their empty gauntlets clutch the polearms in their frozen grip and, just as before, the curious lightning gives them an almost life like aspect. A pair of high arched windows lie to either side of the hallway to her right but they are covered by curtains inside and likely the shutters without.

An old man, whom the local constabulary claimed was mad but otherwise harmless, had often sat in the alleyway next to the chapel in Damora and begged for coins from the parishoners as they departed. Though this activity is illegal, there were far more pressing crimes in a rough whaling village to concern the constables and they left the man alone. One of his avocations, aside from drinking bottles of cheap rum with whatever copper and silver he could muster, was catching rats. Some he would kill and eat but his method for deciding which of the unfortunate animals would end up in his cooking pot suddenly springs to Alysa's mind.

He had built a makeshift maze out of driftwood and other bits of flotsam and he would place the rats inside. On one end of the maze, he would leave a morsel of meat or bread and wait. Whichever rat reached the food first would serve as his evening repast.'Gots to be eatin' the clever ones,' he commented to Alysa one night while sharing his questionable fare with the young girl. 'The clever ones cause the most trouble.'

Alysa can't help but wonder to herself what could possibly have brought that memory to mind, for it certainly wasn't helping with her apprehension about her current situation. She looked around at the various paths before her, contemplating each one carefully before making her way up the stairs.

At the upper landing, there is a wall of covered windows and, on either side, two corridors that run parallel. Alysa knows that the farthest room down the right hallway and on the right side is where she spent the morning but the rest of the rooms remain a mystery. It is possible that the mistress of the house or her manservant slumber in one of these other quarters.However, it is nearly impossible to see to the end of either hallway as the shadows thicken and eventually give way entirely to a profound darkness as the faint illumination of the entryway fades.

She decides to investigate the left hallway, looking curiously as far as the minimal light from the candle will allow as she makes her way down the hall. Thankfully she has managed to mostly banish the recollection of the fate of clever rats from her mind. Although it was possible still that there was some unseen force at work waiting to pounce upon her she has mostly decided that she will burn that bridge when she gets across it rather than borrowing trouble for its own sake.

As with the corridor on the right, there is a vaulted ceiling, the hallway composed of sections distinguished by wooden pillars that rise up to the arched rafters, held in place by crossbeams. It is very similar to the far more stalwart stone buildings in Viktoron, the old cathedrals and castles that survived the destruction wrought by the Horogoth and their terrible war machines.

Still, by the feeble radiance of the candle, the hallways seem cavernous though without any echo. On the contrary, even the smallest sounds Alysa makes are swallowed up by the dark silence.Along the hallway, there is an occasional door to the right or left, directly across from each other. In between, there are small wooden benches for sitting and always the portraits of various individuals of import who are all simply strangers to Alysa. There is not a grand amount of wealth displayed here but surely more than Alysa had accumulated in her lifetime. Even so, she spent some of her childhood in Viktoron and this country manor is but a pale imitation of the opulence she encountered there. In the midst of that metropolis, the young girl had been little better than a stray cat or fox, having wandered into the bustling streets among the towering buildings. There, it had been easy to get lost. If only she had been wiser and more cautious, she might still be roaming those shadowy lanes where, on humid nights, the fog would rise off the river and fill every alleyway. However, there was much competition and even more danger to dwelling there. Where she would hide from the law, so would others and most had far less scruples. There may have been instances where murder was the only recourse for preserving her honor.

Yet here, at Redclyffe, there is the sensation that she is constantly watched. She is in unfamiliar territory and surrounded by uncertainty. Moreover, the hollow eyed, pallid servants she had encountered may have only impressed upon Alysa the oppressive gloom and vacancy of this place. She cannot imagine how long one would have to live in this situation to grow at least accustomed to the feelings caused by the overwhelming darkness. However she can't help but think the adjustment would be easier if her conscience was not plagued as it was with thoughts of her past, but perhaps that is something she will never know. She was used to darkness on its own of course, but the sheer oppressive nature of this was playing tricks on her, convincing her she was being watched in an empty hallway. If she did not soon calm her fears she would find herself once again jumping at shadows and the real threat, if in fact there was one at all would go unnoticed until it was too late.

Just as with the corridor on the other side of the estate, there are eight doors, all on either wall. The hallway ends with yet another tall, arched window, shrouded by curtains like all the others. There is not another intersection that joins the two wings of the building but, based on her outside observations, the tower is the last door on the right in this hallway and may adjoin the other with the last door on the left. In either case, all the doors are closed and there is not any way for Alysa to investigate further while they remain so.It is the quiet that is the most unnerving. During her time as a burglar, cutpurse and pickpocket, silence was only useful for herself as a tool. Ambient noise assisted her by distracting her targets and, even in the most remote of locations, either in the depths of the Viktoron sewers or the lonely roads of the northern regions of Angalon, there was always some noise to be heard. If not for the occasional whisper of her clothing or the rattle of her rapier in its scabbard, Alysa may as well have gone deaf.

She adds this to her mental notes on her surroundings, curious as to why even her own footsteps make no sound in the hallways around her. And for a house with as many servants as Lemia has suggested, why is there not the usual chatter or even the normal sounds of household. The more calm part of her mind reminds her that the servants of the house were probably awake most of the night waiting for their mistress to return and that could explain the lack of most sounds, or perhaps the house is so large that you'd never hear anything were someone in another part of the house from you and the lack of footsteps likely owes to the length of thick carpet that covers the hardwood floors, so that, at least, has a mundane explanation.The remainder of the stillness, as well as the stifling heaviness in the air, may be due to the shuttered windows. Such dreary environs might contribute to the rather dismal, hushed behavior of the few servants she has encountered. Surely now that the lord of the manor is dead, by Alysa's own hand, then the mistress might set about making more cheerful renovations.There are likely very valid and unremarkable reasons for all this but it does not change how cheerless this place is.

Alysa can't help but shiver, the strange sense of always being watched is beginning to get to her. Or perhaps if she were being honest with herself she probably should not have had that second glass of wine earlier. She knows from experience that even the weakest alcohol will dull her senses and yet they all seem to be overloading, whether from the dark, her own paranoia or something as yet unseen, she may never know. Perhaps, she thinks to herself, there are more interesting things hidden away behind these closed doors.

With that thought she makes her way to the end of the corridor she is standing in and begins debating between which of the two doors might offer the more interesting prize should she open it, despite the fact that they are all identical.

The doors, being little more than inanimate wood, though of fine quality and hinged with heavy iron, remain impassive to her decisions.

Alysa smirks and steps towards the door to her left, silently turning the knob to push it open, although it would not surprise her if it was locked. The door is, in fact, locked but that is hardly unexpected, particularly given her presence. Even if her previous vocation is unknown to her hostess, Alysa is still as much an unknown quantity as the mistress of the house herself and it is only a wise precaution to secure at least some of the rooms from intrusion.

Alas, knowledge of Alysa's earlier occupation might have also informed her benefactor that such measures might be of little use against a skilled thief. She smirks once again, debating the idea of picking the lock simply for the fun of it, which in the seeming lack of anything else to do at the moment is a very tempting thought. One that even Alysa herself cannot resist as she begins digging through her pockets for her lock picking tool. None of her belongings were missing when she awakened and her lock picks, tools intrinsic to her trade, are well hidden.The lock on this door does not prove especially daunting and springs open with little persuasion. Within are ghostly white shapes that resolve into what appears to be furniture or other belongings are covered in colorless sheets. As with the other rooms, the curtains are drawn over the windows and it takes only a few moments for Alysa to realize that the dimensions and general size of this room is similar to that in which she spent the morning.Finding this little adventure the very definition of anti-climactic she slips her tools back in to her pocket. She lets her eyes scan over the room in front of her for a few more moments before closing the door once again.

Now common sense would probably lead anyone else to believe that nothing different would be found across the hall, but Alysa is a creature of curiosity and she will certainly not be dissuaded from picking the lock on the opposite door should she find it also locked.

This door, however, puts up much more of a fight. Not only is the primary lock difficult but even once she springs it, Alysa can hear gears grinding and a mechanism snapping in place as a sophisticated trap throws some kind of bolt into place, preventing further access. She had not bothered to check for any kind of countermeasures as, after all, this is not a royal treasury or armory but a simple, if elegant, rural manor. Yet a man who is alleged to be as paranoid about thieves as the master of the house has been portrayed would likely be this cautious. The crown jewels of Viktoron would certainly be afforded this degree of protection, and more, but what could this man possess that he would go to such lengths to safeguard it?

Cursing her stupidity for thinking this lock would prove as simple as the first she finds herself wondering what could possibly be behind such strong security. Perhaps if there was a way for her to examine the mechanism she could disarm it and satisfy her curiosity, but from what she can see this is impossible.

This is why Alysa prefers the woods to the city, so much to explore and always something new to find and always something to keep her attention, at least for the moment. She thinks it's no wonder the woman practically leapt into her arms if this is where she is forced to spend most of her time.

For the moment, Alysa has nothing if not time to be spared. She could, if she so desired, attempt to find some way out of this place or even a means by which to enter the stables and check on her horse. Otherwise, she can leisurely continue to explore this mostly empty manor.

Such a dull, boring existence would likely never suit Alysa. Like her parents, she was born with wanderlust. They chose a life upon the ever shifting seas and, even though it eventually claimed their lives, it must have seemed far more exciting than a less challenging but repetitive existence upon the shore. She decides to head back downstairs, clearly the only thing of any interest to her up here is now beyond her reach. Perhaps Lemia might know a way that she could at least check on Jax. Some might say it was silly of her to be so worried about a simple horse, but he was the only friend she had left after all

Upon the stairs, however, there is a young man who simply stands there as she approaches, Like Dakrom and Alaric, he is dressed in a high collared waistcoat and buttoned vest along with matching trousers in the best fashion of one in a servile position. These are not quite so fine as that which are worn by the servants of more prominent aristocracy in Viktoron but, by the measure of that most grand city that is the spiritual heart of Angalon, all other places might seem to pale in comparison.

That said, the styles of the South are markedly different as Alysa recalls from her childhood. There, the clothing is more robust and extravagant and less formal. Nevertheless, she is now in the north and here there is a degree of simplicity.

The boy, who is perhaps a few years younger than Alysa, stares openly at her, her mouth set in a firm line. Like his fellow staff members, he has sunken eyes, pale cheeks and his dark hair is neatly combed but lank upon his head.

Alysa eyes the young man in front of her curiously before smiling at him. She has now found a new target for her curiosity.

"Well hello there" she says, slowly, not wanting to startle him.

The boy nods and then turns and walks down the stairs, crossing over the wooden floor of the entryway into the room to the right of the main entrance, leaving Alysa alone once more.

Well that surely leaves Alysa with more questions and she sets her mind back to her previous task, making her way down the stairs and back to the dining room where Lemia had left her. Through the parlor once more and into the empty dining room but there is not any sight of Lemia, though she might be the source of the sounds of clattering pans and other sundry noises emanating from behind the pair of doors on the far end of the room. The double doors along the right side wall remain closed as Alysa sets the candle back on the table and walks over to the doors, following the noise coming from the other side as she slowly pushes them open, hoping to find Lemia.

The kitchens are nearly as large as the dining room and here there are reverberations from the labors of those within. Lemia can easily be seen hovering by the two massive iron doors of the ovens while, on the other side of the kitchen, to Alysa's left, Lucia has her arms immersed to the elbow in a huge basin of water.

It is dimly lit in this chamber as well but the combination of the candles, the cookfires and the polished wooden doors of the wall of cabinets on the far side of the room allow Alysa to see more clearly.

Along the wall to her immediate left, there is a long wooden table whose surface is horribly nicked and grooved. Just beyond the end of that is a door, not unlike that on the right wall, near where a pair of two more long tables, covered with cloths, carry an arrangement of brass or bronze serving utensils and dishes of various sizes. This is yet another indication of a slight lack of sophistication as the rich folk of Viktoron prefer silver or gold for their servingware.

From the moment she enters, Alysa shall notice Lucia sniffle slightly and then turn to gaze at the guest, her eyes catching the candlelight and gleaming brightly while Lemia is already whirling about on her heels and shuffling towards Alysa with an uncanny grace.

'Oh, my lady!' she croaks brightly. 'Is there something I may do for you? You left before I could offer more assistance!'

Unlike the petite, thin Lucia, Lemia is more stocky and broad hipped, with a noticeable shelf of a bosom that fills out her uniform. Even so, it seems as her robust figure has suffered from a lack of proper care or diet yet she is not so wan as the other woman, who continues to gaze blankly at Alysa.

Alysa smiles sweetly at Lemia, "I was just wondering if there might be some way to check on my horse, he's not used to being on his own and I should really make sure he's all right before it gets late

Lemia glares at Lucia for a moment, who hastily resumes her potwashing, while the older woman does her best to put on a placating smile.

'The stables are on the far side of the house and only the mistress's manservant has a key for it. We had some difficulty with some of the servants trying to steal horses so the stables are off limits to those of us who serve the lord and lady of the house. However, if you like, I can ask Dakrom when he returns if he can permit you access to the stables. Besides, that is also where the brute likes to rest at times and its best you don't disturb him except when necessary.'

"well I'm sure he's all right, but you know how it is, they're particular creatures and I would hate for him to be any trouble to anyone". She glances over at lucia for a moment but holds her tongue. "Nothing worse than a horse thief though".

Lemia nods. 'I do understand your concern, my lady,' she replies dolefully, 'and I would like to be more help to you but you must understand that I am bound by the rules of my lord and lady. I shall inform Dakrom of your request, though he is usually busy overseeing the business at the mines until well after dusk. I apologize most heartily for the inconvenience. Perhaps, if I may, I could suggest, my lady, that you could entertain yourself in the study? The lady of the house has a collection of books there as she was once an educator. Or, if you so desire, I could have a bath prepared for you, though my lady gave specific instructions that you preferred to wait until after supper.'

There is a knowing look in her red rimmed eyes. 'Not that it is my place to tell you when or what you ought to do with your time, my lady. Do forgive my presumptions.'

"Perhaps i shall take your advice and kill some time with a book. Its no inconvenience really im sure we would all know if Jax set to causing trouble". She smiles once again and turns to leave.

'Lucia,' Lemia states sharply, eyeing the younger woman, 'continue your washing while I show our guest to the study. Make certain you clean everything thoroughly.'

Her stern tone becomes one of gentle supplication as she turns her attention back to Alysa. She gestures towards the door to the right of the one by which Alysa entered. 'We can go through the ballroom. It shall be quicker.'

There is a distinct jingling of keys at her waist but Lemia does not bother to unlock the door as it is already open. She holds it for Alysa.

'After you, my lady,' she says simply.

The vast chamber is mostly empty, with various chairs and cushioned benches along the way, from what Alysa can perceive in the shadows. Here, the echoes are almost deafening, particularly when compared with the silence throughout the rest of the house. Great, tall windows dominate the wall to the left and the curtains are drawn aside to reveal that the shutters that cover them the panes from the outside are so solid as to allow only the faintest halo of sunlight around the edges. The ceiling rises high above them as they cross through the room and, to the right, there is a raised dais where a band or orchestra might be expected to stand to play music for the benefit of the gathered dancers. Swirling patterns set in what shimmers like gold surround a very vivid painting upon the ceiling that looks like a starlit sky.

Once more, this room is well maintained even if it does give the impression of having been of little use of late. There is a door at the back of the stage and another one on the opposite side of the room as well as a larger set of four on the left side wall that likely opens up to the outside. This would be where guests would probably arrive in times of celebration and Alysa recalls the elliptical driveway that encircles the manor house.

Lemia guides Alysa to a door just to the left of the stage, one that she had not immediately seen in the dimness.

Alysa follows her, marvelling at the ornate ballroom around them. If the rest of the house was silent then this room was certainly the heart of it all, every footstep echoing around her and Alysa found it almost welcoming. "Perhaps now your mistress shall be happier, being free of..." Alysa just trails off, not wanting to give away the game just yet.

Not responding, Lemia opens this door to a short, windowless corridor with a door to the left and one on the far end. Here, there is not any light to be had but somehow Lemia doesn't seem bothered by this. In fact, she glances back at Alysa when she speaks and then a look of realization crosses her face.

'Oh, my! I forgot my lantern! Luckily you still have your candle.' The walls in this hallway are painted a brilliant scarlet and the rug beneath their feet matches. Above them, the ceiling appears to have a long gap which has been efficiently and discreetly boarded up.

'Oh, yes,' Lemia comments, one of her sly smiles upon her lips. 'A storm shattered the skylight so Master Armonde simply had it sealed instead of repairing it. Oh, all that glass was such a nuisance. Took forever for Lucia to pick every piece of it out of the carpet.'

She reaches with her thick fingered, untrimmed nailed hand for the door on the left and opens it. Stepping inside, Lemia turns towards Alysa.

'Might I have the use of your candle, my lady? I can set about lighting the lanterns in this room.'

Alysa looks around and hands Lemia her candle. It would be a nice change to have some light, even if it came from a lantern rather than the sun. "Well I would hate to have that job" she laughed "poor girl I can only imagine how she felt doing that!"

It is a room about the same size as the dining room but decorated far differently. There are bookshelves along all four walls, broken only by two windows on the far side which are, predictably, covered by curtains. A large desk dominates the middle of the room, surrounded by several high backed chairs. Behind the desk, between the two windows is another large hearth, also unlit and covered by small iron doors.

On the left hand side, there is a spiral staircase that leads up to a loft overlooking the study where there appears to be still more bookcases.

Lemia moves to the fireplace and uses the candle to ignite the four oil lamps along the mantle. It is not very bright but it is still better than the darkness. She then blows out the candle that Alysa had given her and offers it to the guest.

'My mistress enjoys her books,' Lemia explains, her voice once again filled with adoration. 'She spends much of her nights here.'

'And her days,' she adds quickly. 'If she is present at Redclyffe, this is where she shall most likely be. Our master, may his soul rest, disapproved of a woman seeking knowledge.' Her inflection changes when she mentions the lord of the manor, as if her devotion does not extend to him, particularly now that he is dead.

'I shall return to check upon you, if it pleases you, my lady.'

"It sounds as though she is better off rid of him, wolves or no" Alysa says as she looks around the room. There are more books here than she thinks she could read in her entire lifetime, but surely she will find something to pass the time. "Of course Lemia, I'm sure I will find something here to occupy my time".

The old maid smiles tightly and nods, backing out of the study, leaving Alysa to explore. The loft has two slightly smaller bookcases and, at the far end, next to a circular window that is also covered by the outdoor shutters, a pair of chairs flanking a small table. There is an unlit lantern atop it.

At the desk, there are neatly arranged stacks of papers, leather bound ledgers and a good supply of quills and ink. There is also a small carriage clock that ticks patiently, counting the hours, its face inscrutable under the dome of glass. The desk also has multiple drawers, all of which appear able to be locked.As for the books, they are a collection of various topics and subjects from across all of Angalon. Just studying the spines reveals this and they are all in fairly good condition, not a single one in disrepair. It could take Alysa hours simply to scan all the various titles, which range from books on history and sciences to old diaries and poetry. Once again, not as grand as the Royal Library in Viktoron but clearly belonging to someone with a love of reading.

Alysa scans over the closest shelf and picks up a book of poetry before retreating to one of the high backed chairs to flick through the pages. Her parents had made sure that she was taught to read from a young age, not only books but maps and navigational charts as well. But it was poetry that had always caught the young woman's attention. Angalon was full of books and literature but somehow she had always found poetry more to her liking than the many works of fiction that floated through society, of course she had never had as many options at once as she did in this room.

It is surely indicative, if Lemia spoke the truth, of Mistress Armonde's earlier career as an educator that informs the choice of books in her collection. For most of her early childhood, Alysa had benefited from a formal education in Damora. However, once her parents died, it became more a matter of survival. The constables would place her back in the educator's halls when they could catch her but soon she would escape yet again and resume roaming the streets.

Literacy is not uncommon in Angalon as even the most ignorant and simple of men can benefit from a childhood education. Only those who were raised in the more remote country farms or villages were not required to attend and, even then, most were taught by their parents at home.

The bookshelves stand four levels high with the uppermost requiring Alysa to use the stepstool that rests at the base. If not for the lack of natural light and the preternatural silence, this could be considered a comfortable home.

She pauses over a page, finding something familiar and begins to read silently, burying her irrational fears and the memory of the previous night in the familiar world of the words that flow through her mind. Perhaps if her life had been different Alysa herself would have become a writer, she did after all have the imagination for it. But instead she must satisfy herself with the words of others.

The clock continues to tick away the minutes, the minutes collecting into an hour and then another. Shadows cavort along the shelves but nothing interrupts the tranquility of the study. On the floor, a deep red rug with silvery patterns spans most of the room. The shutters outside the windows rattle faintly as though by a breeze and there is a muffled whistling emanating from the covered fireplace.

Alysa finds herself more comfortable here, the oppressive darkness broken by the lamps. It is far from the least pleasant way to spend her time. Perhaps even a reason to stay a few days more. How long Alysa remains in the study, she can only guess, though an occasional glance at the clock shall give her some idea. She can wile away more hours reading or she can decide to do more exploring, if she prefers. She has yet to see Lemia again but the old maid might have other duties to keep her occupied.

and she is content to waste the remainder of the day here, having at least satisfied some of her curiosity for the moment. She continues turning the pages in the book before replacing it with another from the same shelf. So engrossed is Alysa in yet another one of the many books, which prove to not have any predictable arrangement, that she may not immediately notice the door opening and the slight form of Lucia standing there. She seems reluctant to announce herself but fortunately Alysa's senses are honed by talent and practice to alert her. Otherwise, she would have died or worse many years ago.

'My lady,' she states once she realizes she's been noticed, 'my mistress has risen and is curious as to whether or not you are still interested in her previous invitation.'