Chapter Text
Let us regard our Hero! He is tall and broad of shoulder, in his early 30s, with long blonde hair pulled back into a simple tail. One might imagine he is of Nord blood, though he makes no comment on the matter. His armor is steel, scuffed and worn, and he carries a claymore nearly as long as he is tall.
Recently appointed to the rank of Swordsman in the Fighter's Guild, our hero has trekked from Cheydinhal to a the village of Water's Edge, aptly named for its position on the shore of the Lower Niben.
Upon arrival, he reflects that 'village' might be a bit of an overstatement. Three small houses face the river, simple stone buildings covered in moss. The canopy of trees above diffuses the rain into a fine mist, and the air holds a chill as dusk descends.
With no indication of where to start, our hero knocks on the first door he reaches. He takes a careful step back, hands away from his sides, attempting to look as un-intimidating as possible. He does not think he is successful.
The door opens suddenly, bright light spilling out into the deeping gloom. A short blonde woman stands in the doorway, peering out.
"Oh! You must be the fighter I sent for!"
For just a moment, our hero is rendered speechless. The woman before him is far too pretty for this bucolic setting. Her curly blonde hair is shoulder-length, perfectly framing a lovely face; full lips, strong nose, pale brown eyes.
"... you are the fighter I hired, right?"
Our hero starts. "Yes ma'am. Swordsman of the Fighter's Guild, as requested." He realizes he is still wearing his helmet, and yanks it off awkwardly. "Pleasure to meet you."
She looks him over and smiles. "I'm Biene, but you probably knew that already. Come in, then. Have you eaten dinner?"
"I had some bread and cheese, on the road." He hopes he doesn't sound as nervous as he feels right now.
"Recently?" The question is pert.
"No," he admits.
"I've made mutton stew," she says. "I thought you might be hungry after your travels." She gestures to a chair at a modest table. He sinks into it reflexively, watching her dish out two bowls. She sets them on the table, sitting across from him. "Dig in," she says, passing him a pewter spoon.
Like any seasoned warrior, he does not need to be told twice. Suddenly ravenous, he devours the contents of the bowl almost too quickly. He struggles to remember some semblance of table manners, but seems to be all elbows today; he is sure he makes a mess. Nevertheless, he voices his gratitude: "This is wonderful. Thank you."
Biene watches him with a smile, eating her soup much more slowly, allowing each spoonful to cool fully and sipping with grace. "I'm glad you like it! I'm afraid I'm going to send you off on a terribly dangerous quest."
He squares his shoulders, putting on his business face. This he can do. "What do you need?"
She watches him shrewdly, noting the change in his demeanor, and seems pleased. "My father ... well, Gods bless him, he's a bit of a fool. Since my mother passed, he's taken to gambling freely, and has been quite remarkably bad at it. Eventually, he managed to accrue the kind of debt I cannot hope to pay."
Our hero frowns. "How has his debt become yours?"
She smiles wryly. "It hasn't, exactly. They've taken him, and they'll only give him back if I clear his debt."
The Swordsman shifts uncomfortably, mentally inventorying his possessions. "How much?"
"One thousand gold," she says. She sounds resigned.
"That's ... a considerable sum," he acknowledges. "So ... rescue operation?"
She chuckles. "No, nothing so bold. This particular usurer has a lot of friends; it wouldn't end well."
He frowns. "So what do you need?"
"I want you to retrieve my grandfather's weapon and armor from the family tomb."
His eyebrow raises, and he cannot help himself. "You have a family tomb?"
Her smile shows a trace of sadness. "The Amelion family was once quite well known. Our fortune was lost over the years, but we kept the crypt, because ... well, what else are we supposed to do with it?"
He nods slowly. "I take it there are the usual undead guardians?"
"We had to hire your guild to make the place safe for my mother's funeral. It's been some years, and you know how tombs can get."
"I do," he says ruefully. "I should head out now, then. I'll sleep in Leyawiin, then head around the lake tomorrow."
She frowns. "Alas, that means you won't have time for pie."
He smiles for the first time today. "Ma'am, there is always time for pie."